Celui qui rira le dernier
by siriusfreakingblack
Summary: 'Spoken as a true Pureblood princess! Bravo, milady', Sirius joked saucy grin in place. 'Acted as a true brute, Black. Congratulations', deadpanned the girl. That chick was putting on a show, and it seemed like she was determined to keep her real emotions to herself. Well, Sirius Black was always up to a challenge.
1. Of dogs and birds

-1-

Of Dogs and Birds

Sirius Black was bored out of his mind. While this in itself wasn't unusual, it was still quite unfortunate as he was known to act pretty recklessly when lacking of things to do. Remus would go as far as to say that he turned into a right idiot which, if he was being honest with himself, was the complete truth.

Not that he was ever going to admit it to his werewolf friend. The prat was already righteous enough as he was. Besides, James seemed to think his shenanigans were hilarious and Peter applauded every prank he pulled so he really couldn't be that bad.

A smirk gracing his aristocratic features, he surveyed the crowd in search of his next victim. He soon caught sight of a puff of greying, messy hair among the sea of bodies evolving in front of him. With a sigh, all of his mischievous intentions abandoned him at once. He had promised Mr. Potter he'd be good tonight. What a drag!

It seemed the pureblood elite would remain unharmed and continue to enjoy their end-of-summer get together in peace. A shame, really... Merlin knew how much this lot deserved a good kick in the ass. His icy grey eyes clouding in anger, he resisted the urge to pout. He was, after all, a manly man, and men did not pout. He had a reputation to hold on to.

Tugging at his bowtie, he tried to remember why he had agreed to drag his feet to this hellish nightmare. He grimaced at the thought of Mrs. Potter. This woman might be old, but she was terrifying. All she had to do was to stare down at him and he would find himself acquiescing to whatever she said. However, he had to admit that her reasoning for attending these stupid balls was hardly disputable.

As she always said: a wise fellow keeps his friends near and his foes even nearer.

That's why, even though she was considered as one of the biggest blood traitors that ever lived, Dorea Potter could be spotted at every mundane event ever organised. Sirius found it impressive the way all the whispered hurtful comments thrown at her seemed to bounce off her as if they were weightless. He knew different.

He knew every single insult hit home, and that it took a lot of willpower and self-esteem not to let them get to you. He himself had not been able to handle it. After half a decade of being called names and being considered unworthy, he'd had enough. He only thanked his lucky stars that James' parents had been generous enough to give him a place to stay while he figured out how to deal with the mess running away had left him in. Then again, returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year gave him a reprieve that he was grateful for.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice his friend walking towards him until the black-haired young wizard was leaning on the wall beside him. He and James spent a while observing the dancing figures before the bespectacled boy spoke up.

"So, how have you been holding up, mate?"

The dog animagus shrugged, his face indifferent. The truth was that he had spent a good part of the night trying to avoid an encounter with his dearest mother. Not that he was afraid of her or anything- he wasn't a coward, but he simply didn't feel in the mood for the inevitable spat that would surely follow. He had seen her briefly at the beginning of the night and a glance was all he needed to confirm that she was still the same old prejudiced hag he had left behind about six weeks ago.

Regulus had been at her side and, for a second, the two brothers had stared at each other from their respective spots across the room. Sirius thought he had seen something like regret fleetingly flash in Regulus' eyes, but it was soon replaced by the burning anger he was far more accustomed to. Apparently, some things didn't change.

"Well, you know me Prongs. I always have hated those masquerades." drawled Sirius. "It's so formal, you would think these people have brooms stuck up their asses."

"At least you don't have to greet all these idiots one by one anymore." said James bitterly.

James let out a huff of annoyance that made Sirius chuckle. His friend usually liked these dances. He got to see some of his parents' friends that were often too busy with work to pay them a visit at the manor and he sometimes had the chance to meet a few fair ladies that acknowledged his awesomeness, unlike a certain redhead. While it remained mindless flirting, it never went very far because, to Sirius' dismay and sometimes his own, James always came to realise that his heart belonged to the stubborn girl that made his life so complicated.

Sirius stared at the elitist imbeciles chatting snobbishly before him with even more contempt. Why on earth did Mrs. Potter insist on them sucking up to the very people who thought of Lily Evans as nothing more than dirt under their shoes and of his friend's family as a disgrace to the wizardry community? It made him positively sick.

"Who's the new bird?" asked Sirius.

James turned his head in the direction Sirius was pointing. There stood, surrounded by a dozen women of different ages, a girl of about sixteen years old. She was beautiful with her long golden mane and James remembered vaguely being introduced to her, but something in her demeanour had turned him off. She was pretty yes, but there wasn't any light to her. She was dull and in his eyes that made her almost... insignificant.

"Don't really know. She and her family just moved here from France. The last name is... er... Something like Doclay or Dorclaw?" mumbled James, confusion evident in his voice.

"Deauclair?" asked Sirius, frowning in thought.

"That's it. Ring any bells?" said James, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

"Well yeah, the Deauclairs are one of the most prestigious pureblood families of France. Their genealogical tree is Muggle free since at least ten generations which is quite a feat, let me tell you. Even the Blacks can't compete with that. They're practically royalty." said Sirius thoughtfully. The boy then noticed the weird look his companion was giving him and straightened up before crossing his arms defensively. He stared at James defiantly.

"What? If your mother had been as obsessed with blood purity as mine and had made you read Forty-six Sacred names of wizardry European society, you would know as much as I do, alright?" he snapped.

Raising his hands in surrender, James grinned, hoping to make peace with the hot-tempered boy. "Nobody's judging you Padfoot. I was just surprised, chill out." he added in an attempt to make amends.

Tension leaving his body, Sirius went back to studying the frail looking girl. Unlike James, he was intrigued by her. She moved with a calculated care, never wasting energy with unnecessary gestures and always keeping her expression neutral, if not absolutely blank. Frowning, he watched as she listened to the austere woman at her side and nodded quietly.

He noticed how her hand curled into a fist briefly before she hid it in the folds of her robes. However, her apparent irritation was never reflected in her eyes, so it went unnoticed by the flock of chattering ladies surrounding her. As if on cue, she then plastered a smile on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Sirius' vantage point was far from where the action was taking place, but he was an experienced liar and he could recognize a mask when he saw one. That chick was putting on a show, and it seemed like she was determined to keep her real emotions to herself, and herself only. He knew the feeling all too well.

Never show fear, never lose control. That had been his motto for the last ten years. Purebloods were predators. They didn't have friends, they had allies or enemies. Give them power over you and they would have a piece of your soul in their hands. Pureblood princesses usually smiled and laughed to hide their lack of substance. He was under the impression that this Deauclair girl was doing the exact opposite, she dimmed her spirit so no one would get a peek at her soul. It interested him, drew him in.

Was she different? If only he could just talk to her...

"Mayday, mayday! Dammit, look at what is coming our way!" came the alarmed hiss from the boy next to him.

Sirius snapped his head towards what made James freak out so much. He suddenly wished he hadn't. A young, dark haired woman was making her way purposefully towards them. She was beautiful, but something about the craziness of her hair or the deranged look in her eyes suggested mild dementia and made the hair on Sirius' neck stand up on end.

He had always known his cousin Bellatrix was rotten to the core, but seeing the smirk contorting her features now, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Well, well, what have we got here? If someone had told me this was a charity event, I would have brought some money with me to give to the poor and homeless." Bellatrix drawled, smiling in the unpleasant way of hers.

Sirius tried to ignore the vicious stab at his disownment and gritted his teeth to hold back the snarky remark he was dying to just spit in her face. Bellatrix surveyed him calmly, waiting for him to burst out with anger. When the explosion didn't come, her eyes glittered maliciously and Sirius felt James growing tense.

"Then again, they should have known better than to let lost causes in." she chuckled throatily.

Sirius couldn't resist. She had made it just too easy. "Well considering that you were able to get in yourself, Bellatrix, they must be pretty tolerant." he said. As Bellatrix flushed slightly at this, Sirius' lips stretched in a feral grin.

What he was doing was petty and wouldn't get him anywhere, but man, did it feel good. After all, one should learn how to enjoy the little things in life. Besides, he'd endured enough of this crap. He wasn't going to take anymore.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix had finally recovered from her shock.

"I see your little estrangement hasn't done you any good." she growled. "You still haven't learnt any manners. I really don't understand how you turned out to be such a disappointment. Your poor mother... at least she has Regulus. Maybe he'll be able to make things right and draw the attention away from his disgrace of a brother. Such a responsibility you left him... big shoes to fill... no wonder he resents you so much. Tell me, to what lengths will he have to go to make everyone forget the shame you have brought onto the family?"

The raven haired woman, clearly indulging in the power she had over him, surveyed his expression closely, looking for any sign of weakness on his part. Determined to stay impassive, Sirius struggled to conceal his feelings and tried to act as if he couldn't care less.

"How will he save the day and clean up the mess his obnoxious brother, so eager to stain our world with his doubtful opinions and his disreputable choice of friends, made without any consideration for his own kin?" His cousin continued to bait him deliberately.

Fuming, Sirius was about to retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to look at James' face. James might have been an easy-going fellow, but he was a fierce defender of his friends and glancing at him now, Sirius caught a brief glimpse of the proud and honourable man his companion would surely become in the not-so-far future.

"Sirius has done nothing wrong. If anything, it's his so-called family that has let him down. Since when is it a crime to stand up for what you believe in?" retorted the messy-haired boy hotly.

Bellatrix' attention shifted rapidly from her cousin to the boy beside him. "How can you possibly ask such a question? Sirius basically destroyed his father, doomed his little brother and broke his mother's heart." she sneered contemptuously.

As she finished her sentence, Sirius burst into a fit of bark-like laugher. Concerned, James eyed him warily.

"Well Bella, if that's all you have against me, then I shall sleep in peace tonight. I cannot be held responsible for the break of something that never existed in the first place. Come on," choked Sirius, still shaking with laughter. "You and I both know my mother doesn't have a heart. Spite is the only thing that keeps her warm at night."

Bellatrix was silent for a few seconds, and then she smiled in a way that could only mean trouble. Her eyes roamed over the room quickly and she bent a little forward, forcing James to step back a bit so that she wouldn't touch him.

"Laugh all you want Sirius, but don't rejoice too much. If you think you've won then you're a fool. Regulus knows his place and now that you're gone, he'll be even more determined to prove his worth. Maybe I should send you flowers after all. Thanks to you we'll soon be granted a new, dedicated follower." she said smirking darkly.

With faint surprise, Sirius found that his mouth was suddenly very dry. He exchanged a quick glance with James. What exactly was the lunatic ranting about?

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, trying to ignore the gut-clenching feeling that was suddenly threatening to overwhelm him.

"Ah, come on Sirius, don't play dumb. I know you know. Don't worry, I'll assist Regulus in every way I can. In fact, I won't ever leave him alone. We don't want him to go down the wrong road, do we?" whispered his cousin with a twisted smirk.

"You stay AWAY from him, you sadistic bitch!" snarled Sirius baring his teeth.

"Now now, Sirius calm down. Are you actually going to pretend you care?" said Bellatrix, with a tone of delirious mirth.

Before he could muster a reply, a deep gravelly voice interrupted the argument. Looking up, Sirius found himself staring into the eyes of one irritated Charlus Potter.

"Just what is going on here? You're making quite a disturbance." the older man said in a disapproving voice.

Sirius was, all of a sudden, extremely aware of the curious glances that were being cast their way.

Facing the young witch, Charlus Potter put on a fatherly expression and added, "I expected that much from my boys, they're known to be quite the pranksters, but my dear Bellatrix, I would have thought that a well-educated pureblood lady like you would know her manners."

"Well, you would know a lot about pureblood etiquette, dear Uncle." hissed Bellatrix.

The obvious jab and the apparent disgust that was evident in her tone didn't faze the tall wizard in the least, who went on smiling genially. "Coming from a family as respected as mine has a few ups and many lows, I'm afraid. Perfection is expected from us. It's a burden everyone bearing the name of Potter has to shoulder at an early age. Being praised and having your every single gesture scrutinised by the public can be quite overwhelming and in these conditions, it's hard not to let your head inflate out of proportions." said Mr. Potter gazing pointedly at his son, who had the grace to look remotely ashamed. Little did his father know that by keeping his head down, James was hiding a smug smirk.

Mr. Potter's expression darkened as he addressed Bellatrix again, his voice gaining a dangerous edge, even while his expression remained pleasant. Sirius shuddered slightly as he realized that, even though Charlus Potter might seem just as easy-going as his son, he still was a pureblood wizard and was therefore well versed in the art of intimidation.

"However, even though such eccentricities are somewhat endearing, let's not forget ourselves. Arrogance isn't a pretty sight for anyone and some people might do well to remember their place." said Mr. Potter.

Bellatrix might have lost a few of her marbles, but even Sirius had to admit she was painfully intelligent. The tall woman quickly caught on the menacing undertone the conversation had gotten and, wild locks flying everywhere, she took her leave, leering at the two teenagers as she did so. As soon as she was out of sight, James let out a sigh and, grinning like the idiot he was, pulled Sirius into a one-armed hug.

"It seems like we once again dodged a spell, my friend. No offence, but your whole family is a bit on the crazy side, Padfoot." exclaimed James, shaking his head in mock sadness.

"Tell me about it." snorted Sirius.

An irritated huff was then heard and the young wizards were reminded of the presence of the man who, to be frank, had just saved their sorry asses. Sheepishly, they turned around and automatically switched the charm on.

Unfortunately, even though it usually worked on girls, with the exception of one Lily Evans, Charlus wasn't impressed and the puppy eyes were met with a stern look.

"I thought I had made myself clear?" said Charlus Potter, in an exasperated manner.

"Well, Dad you see…" started James. "It's not like we actually wanted to see her ugly mug. I mean, I could get myself a much better bird, if I actually put some effort into it. Honestly, have you seen my fa-"

His father, knowing his son could go on for hours babbling about his so-called gorgeousness, interrupted him before it got out of hand. "James, I don't want to hear it." he briskly said.

"Mr P. I swear to Merlin, we didn't look for trouble this time. She went straight for us without any sort of warning." insisted Sirius trying to get James out of the hot spot.

"Yeah, she was like a hawk, let me tell you." added James, nodding like a madman.

"In fact, she's more of a dog, Prongs." answered Sirius, with an amused smirk.

"Haha! Good one Pad!" James chortled as he clapped him on the back.

Exasperated, Mr. Potter pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he known that becoming a father of two troublemaking boys would be so, well... troublesome, he would seriously have considered the idea more pessimistically when his wife had expressed her desire to have children. As soon as the thought crossed his mind though, he snorted and shook his head. What was he talking about? James' birth had been the happiest event of his entire life and even though Sirius was not one of his own, he would gladly tell anyone who asked that the young man was his second son.

He interrupted the teenagers before they started to gain attention from the crowd again, shooed them away and, as he watched them excitedly cross the room with mischievous grins, a smile graced his features. He wouldn't be surprised if, despite his warnings, an innocent bystander went home sporting electric blue hair tonight.

However, as appealing as the perspective of humiliating one or two aristocrats was, the boys unfortunately did not have access to the appropriated ingredients to brew a hair color-changing potion during the summer break. Mrs. Potter made sure to hide away all of her apothecary stock before their arrival and they still had not managed to break through the wards she had protected her storeroom with.

Disgruntled, they had to settle for a less extravagant prank, and before coming to the ball they had taken advantage of Mr. Potter's afternoon doze to nick a few bottles of Firewhiskey from his cabinet. Hell-bent on spiking the punch, the young wizards made their way through the crowd trying to be as conspicuous as possible which, given their history as pranksters, wasn't that big of a deal.

Without a word, James set off to keep watch while Sirius approached the buffet table. The boy appraised the food displayed before him and his gaze locked on the plate of little sandwiches. Merlin, did he love those! Knowing James would keep the unwanted at bay, Sirius allowed himself a few seconds to stuff as much of the exquisite goodness as he could in his mouth.

Being the great friend he was, he remembered to store a dozen or so into his pockets for James to eat later on, preferably after the feat was done. Swallowing with difficulty, Sirius went back to the bowl of punch and, with practiced ease, withdrew a hundred years old bottle of Firewhiskey from the confines of his robes.

He uncorked it but before he tipped the bottle, he hesitated. Suddenly, the thought of wasting such fine nectar on idiots like Regulus or crazies like Bellatrix didn't seem so appealing anymore. Eying the amber liquid with envy, Sirius was seriously, no pun intended, considering taking a sip directly from the bottle before dumping it in the punch when a feminine voice interrupted his musing.

"Are you going to pour it in or not?"

The boy raised his head and was met with the sight of the lone figure of Amelia Deauclair. The girl had silently crept behind him and now stood quietly by his side, staring at him with practiced disinterest.

With so little space between them, Sirius could make out the golden color of her eyes glistening like light honey. The fire from the torch on the nearest wall illuminated her and tendrils of hair framing her face gleamed in the flickering light making it look like her mane had a life of its own.

"Um." Sirius stammered, rather unintelligently. His eyes quickly found James and he barely suppressed the groan that rose deep in his throat. A few feet from where he was currently standing, James struggled to escape from the death grip his great-aunt Eleanor had on his arm.

From the constipated look on his friend's face, Sirius understood that fleeing was easier said than done; it seemed like he truly was on his own. Sighing, Sirius turned back to Amelia, noting that she was still observing him closely; she seemed to have caught him glancing at the now reddening James, for a ghost of a smile graced her lips.

"I would not count on him to come to your rescue. Last I heard, Lady Burbridge was questioning him about a certain duck that would have find itself sitting on her head after someone had skilfully transfigured her hat at her late birthday party. She seemed quite adamant about finding the culprit and bringing him to justice." Amelia said softly, but with amusement lacing her tone.

Deciding the safest way to handle this sticky situation was to sweet talk his way out of it, he played along. "Well, she should have known better than to show up with that atrocity on top of her head. If you want my thoughts on the matter, she was better off with the duck. At least people started laughing in her face instead of behind her back."

"You sure have an interesting way of putting things." replied the girl. Turning her back to the chattering crowd, she faced the buffet table and eyed it with a speculative look. Intrigued as to where this was going, Sirius followed suit and they found themselves side by side, effectively hiding the bowl of punch from view, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the young wizard.

"So…" said Amelia, her hand casually hovering over the little sandwiches as if she could not quite decide if taking one was advisable. "Now that you have been found out, what's your back up plan?"

"Back up plan?" asked Sirius, while handing her a napkin.

"When one plots a misdeed and is caught red-handed, it is expected that he has a way to get himself out of trouble." she said casually, wrapping the sandwich in the offered napkin and concealing it in her sleeve. "Well, if he is any good, that is." she added as an afterthought.

"Why, I really don't know what you are talking about, milady. Has someone done anything that goes against morals? Do tell me who the miscreant is and I will personally remind him of his manners!" exclaimed the wizard, hand clutching at his chest dramatically.

Amelia turned her head towards him and tilted it slightly, which, Sirius thought, would have been far more appealing if her eyes didn't look so dead. "Denial. I see you are not new to this. Good. Unfortunately for you, Mister..." she looked at him pointedly at this.

"Black." supplied Sirius helpfully, humoring her for the moment as he really doubted that his name was something she didn't already know.

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Black," she emphasised, "I am neither blind nor stupid and the fact is, I clearly saw you about to spike this drink. I am not about to let you off the hook so easily and I am curious as to how you plan to get yourself out of this mess." she told him.

Sirius helped himself to a couple of cube-shaped pieces of cheese and popped one into his mouth, acknowledging her with a vague noise of approval. "…by admitting that you are right and that I, hypothetically of course, found myself stuck in such a situation?" Sirius paused and stared at her meaningfully.

"Hypothetically, of course." she drawled in a bored fashion, making the corner of his lips twitch upwards with the sudden urge to grin.

"I would then be faced with two options. Either dispose of the evidence or bribe the eyewitness. This is without saying, hypothetically assuming that the person that busted me is willing to snitch on me." he continued, keeping his voice as even as possible.

"Ah, that is to be considered indeed." she mused. "Let's say, for the benefit of this study of the human psychology, that the witness in question is bounded by the rules of etiquette and has no other option but to... as you said it... snitch."

"Pity. I was under the impression that said witness, even if she tried to cover it up, didn't take well to people dictating her decisions." he breathed, all of a sudden feeling daring.

He wasn't disappointed as, the moment the words left his lips, Amelia's eyes snapped in his direction, anger flashing in their depths for a second before she schooled her expression into one of indifference. "It seems your impressions have fooled you, Mr. Black. You might want to think again before you babble nonsense and remember just who you are talking to." she replied with such coldness that he was surprised the punch didn't freeze over.

"Touchy subject, is it?" he dropped his voice and pinned her mercilessly with his gaze. "I am the master of shutting off feelings, darling. It will take more than a stoic face, a bored tone and icy eyes for me to buy it."

To his astonishment, she didn't shy away from him or lower her glare- she stood up to him with squared shoulders. Suddenly, a dangerous smirk, its intensity rivalling that of Bellatrix's, appeared on her face and the boy had to resist the urge to take a step back.

It was quite the transformation, but it certainly wasn't what Sirius had been waiting for. However, the weird glint was gone as quickly as it had come and, in a blink of an eye, was replaced with dull satisfaction.

"It seems like they were right, you are far too hot-blooded for your own good." she whispered softly.

"They?" questioned Sirius, rather shaken by the sudden shift of events.

"I met your... relatives." she hesitated, after thinking her words through. She raised an eyebrow at him and continued on with a sneer. "Your mother is quite opinionated. And loud. I learned more about you that I ever wanted to."

"Then you must have been thrilled to hear about my disownment." retorted Sirius, feeling oddly calm about his situation all of a sudden. Amelia's stare was uncaring and she dismissively waved his comment away.

"Well, you have been quite the disgrace." she said distractedly, busying herself with a clasp of her robes that had somehow become undone. The insult was said in such a manner that the marauder surprisingly didn't find himself offended by it. She was merely stating a fact, it seemed.

"Then again, you came to converse with me regardless of my reputation." He spoke his thought as it occurred to him.

She raised her head and nodded blankly at his statement. "That I did." she admitted simply.

Refusing to let the matter go, Sirius invaded her personal space, forcing her to look up at him. "Why?" he asked, genuinely confounded, letting his eyes roam her features in search of an answer. He practically growled in frustration when he realized she had closed off completely, apparently using his fleeting moment of discomposure to gather herself.

"I was curious. That's all. For someone that everyone wants to forget as quickly as possible, it seems like your name is still on everybody's lips." she huffed.

"You are going to have to try harder than that." Sirius said harshly. He didn't like it when someone was underestimating his intelligence and if that girl really thought she could play with him that way, she was going to have a bad wake up call.

His harsh tone seemed to ruffle her and for once, genuine anger could be heard in her voice. "Well maybe I simply could not bear being subjected to Mr. Malfoy's bragging about his so-called worthiness and wealth for another second. I have had enough of people thinking they can get in my good graces by flaunting their heritage in my face every chance they've got. I mean, does he honestly believe I would be impressed by him owning bloody albino peacocks!?" Suddenly, she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, before lowering it to her side and closing her eyes.

Sirius found that he felt a twisted sense of achievement by having been able to irritate her enough for her to drop her pretence. This was probably the closest he was going to get to her true self before she regained composure and he took a moment to observe her, hair seemingly crackling with electricity, eyelids flustering and nostrils flaring slightly as she took deep calming breaths.

He caught himself thinking he quite liked the agitated version of Amelia Deauclair. Anything was better than the dead air she had around her before anyway.

"You know," he said, not wanting her too embarrassed, "if he annoyed you that much, you could just tell him to go die in a hole somewhere. It's not like you're incapable of doing so, you snapped at me just now." he smiled. "In your defence, I was being a bit of a jerk."

"We cannot all be freelancers, Black." Amelia answered crisply, still refusing to look at him.

Leaning in, he brought his lips to her ear. "Doesn't mean you're not dying to." he murmured. He smirked when she opened her eyes with a start and flinched away from him with a scowl on her face. Sirius almost laughed then and there, it was so much fun.

"There is such a thing as a personal space, Mr Black, that you do not seem aware of. I will not condone your attempts at invading my intimacy." she lectured him severely.

"Spoken as a true Pureblood lady! Bravo, milady." Sirius joked, saucy grin in place.

"Acted like a true brute, Black. Congratulations," the girl deadpanned. She looked as if she was struggling not to put her hands on her hips in an irritated manner, a fact that was greatly contributing to the boy's amusement.

"It seems like we've reached a stalemate." said Sirius finally breaking the silence that was growing uncomfortably between the two of them.

"It would seem so." came the quick reply. Since it didn't appear like she was going to make the first move, Sirius generously decided to be the one to bury the hatchet. Irking her was hilarious enough, but it would only get him so far and his purpose was to see what she was truly made of, not aggravate her to death.

He took a step back and deliberately broke eye contact, putting an end to the staring contest this encounter had turned into. He looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at James who, backed up against the wall, was still trying to fend off his batty great aunt with an irritated air.

Sirius then busied himself with the food in front of him, promptly ignoring the girl standing next to him. As he doubted she was used to someone giving her the cold shoulder, he figured that giving her space was the best way to get a reaction out of her. As always, he was right.

"You forgot one." she said dispassionately, her tone back to her habitual bored drone.

"Forgot what?" he asked mimicking her blank stare, honestly dumbfounded by her sudden change of subject.

"When you were telling me about your options. Your backup plans in case of discovery." she added when he met her gaze, confusion written all over his face. "You said you could either get rid of the incriminating evidence or buy the witness' secrecy."

"Well, I could also do both, I suppose, but..." he trailed off, finally catching the pointed look she was directing at him from under her golden bangs. His eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. Was she actually suggesting... a smirk slowly made its way onto his face. "Let's not go ahead of ourselves, missy. I don't know what the hell you're trying to prove, but let me tell you, this stuff isn't for everyone," he mocked her, gesturing to the sadly still full bottle of Firewhiskey. "I don't want to be the one held responsible for your actions when you start making a fool of yourself, only because you suddenly decided you wanted to act like a bloody big shot. I've already have enough problems of my own."

At this she sneered contemptuously. "You seem to be under the impression, Mr. Black, that I cannot hold my liquor." she tossed her hair back haughtily. "Now, I don't know how English witches are brought up, but in France it is expected of a lady to be able to hold her own when it comes to drinking. After all, our wine is among the best there is and it flows freely in receptions like these. What kind of wife would one be if she embarrassed her husband every time she had a glass or two?"

Stunned into silence, Sirius stared at her haughty figure for a while before he shook himself out of his daze. Well, if she wanted to play it that way... "Be my guest then." he said with a grin.

And for the first time that night, Amelia's eyes shone with a hint of life.


	2. Impertinent brats

-2-

Impertinent Brats

One could say that Lucius Malfoy was the epitome of arrogance. Well aware of his status, he never subjected himself to the presence of anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. It wasn't really that he didn't care that people saw him as a haughty and cold-hearted man, he did care, but among nobles these traits were excusable as long as the purity of your blood allowed you to act as such. In fact, being inaccessible to most was encouraged and individuals that valued their friendships above what was proper were frowned upon. Loyalty was a fickle thing and Lucius, like his father and his grandfather before him, knew better than to put all his eggs in the same basket. Family was all he respected and, since it was common to simply cast out the parents that dared bring dishonor upon themselves, he never had to associate himself to anyone whose beliefs were less than recommendable.

Power came from good reputation and it was all that mattered. Why chain himself to wizards from lower castes, when he could obtain what he needed much more quickly by flinging around his title of Lord Malfoy than by sweating blood trying to gain a respect that he deserved by birth? Besides, nothing gave him more of a thrill then having someone's will yield under his stare, their eyes flaring with suppressed anger before lowering in shameful defeat.

Maintaining the supremacy of the family was demanding. Malfoys were always to be affiliated with the right characters, the most influential ones, whose views and goals would allow Lucius' relatives to come out on top. It was something they excelled at, but even so, when Abraxas Malfoy, filled with pride and unusually flustered, had come back to the manor one night and told his son about his meeting with the Dark Lord, Lucius had been sceptic. He was aware that there were rumors and murmurs in tearooms about a man, a wizard whose power, reputation and ambitious deeds were of the same calibre of Grindelwald himself. Only greater. However, they were only rumors.

Upon hearing his father's excited rant about Death Eaters and Dark Marks, Lucius' doubts grew. Sure, he was all for an all-out war against muggles and mudbloods, the scum of the earth, who seemed to think the world was theirs for the taking, but to go as far as to brand himself? Malfoys didn't bow down to anyone. They didn't scorch their forearms with some ugly scar for the benefits of a man who was rumored to be unbeatable. It was gruesome, it was barbaric and above all, it was risky. What if this wizard, this Lord Voldemort, ended up being another disappointment? Then they'd be stuck with this undeniable proof burned into their skin, this permanent testament of their convictions displayed for all to see. How could they possibly defend themselves if they chose the wrong side of the war once the last curse was casted?

All of his hesitations, his reluctance, went up in smoke though, the second he found himself in the presence of the Dark Lord. That such an aura of raw power existed was so incredible that Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. This was it. Nothing would stand in the way for Lord Voldemort didn't care who he had to kill or torture; women and children were not safe from his wrath. With his strength and his disregard for life itself, the Dark Lord was an unstoppable force and, for the first time in his entire existence, Lucius Malfoy knew fear.

It was the price to pay to be a god among humans and he accepted it. His fear was, by any rate, nowhere nearly as great as the terror that gripped the blood traitors' and muggle-lovers' hearts. Soon after he joined the Death Eaters' ranks, they had started doing raids in small muggle villages, sowing death and despair in their wake. Dumbledore and some of his most trusted friends pitifully tried to oppose them, but they could do nothing against the faceless horror that overtook the magical community who, soon enough, were too terrified to even dare utter Lord Voldemort's name.

His followers' identities were kept a secret and that added to the general paranoia. Since your everyday wizards didn't know whom to trust anymore; they started to eye their own friends with suspicion. Moreover, keeping a low profile allowed Lucius to make it up the corporate ladder of the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding world. Having a few Death Eaters in positions of influence was essential to the Dark Lord's plan and Lucius was very dedicated.

The constant struggle for power was a difficult mind game and it also meant sucking up to people from time to time. Tonight's target consisted of the delicate and amiable Amelia Deauclair. The girl, with her perfect manners and her angelic face, was the faultless representation of what a Pureblood witch was supposed to be. Her family was incredibly rich and the purity of her blood was enough to make any noble lady green with envy. They had been introduced at the beginning of the evening and he was determined to charm her with his wits. If he managed to do so, the Dark Lord would be immensely pleased. The Deauclairs were, after all, legendary and with their support, the Death Eaters' cause would gain heaps of credibility.

Enthralling her was supposed to be a piece of cake, he was known to be amazingly smooth. At first, everything had seemed to work out just fine. She had smiled and laughed in all the right places, making it hard for him not to smirk in satisfaction, but then, just as he thought he had succeeded, she had disappeared. Pouf! For one second she was at his side, delightfully giggling, and then she was gone. In a blink of an eye. Hadn't he known the anti-disapparation wards were up, he might have started to panic right there and now.

Making his way through the crowd, dodging invitations to dance and battling with himself to keep his face pleasant, he started to look for her. Surely she couldn't have gone that far? When he finally spotted her baby blue gown, he swore under his breath. Of course. Of all the people she could have met by chance in this sea of Purebloods... It had to be him. Sirius Black. He reached them in a record time and quickly made his presence known. Amelia's back was to him so he didn't get to see the grateful relief wash over her as he expected it did, but the furious look on Black's face made up for it.

"Ah Mister Malfoy, I thought for a second that I had lost you." said Amelia turning around to greet him with a smile. Lucius felt a twinge of irritation. Honestly, if she had simply stayed with him instead of going off on her own, this situation would not have happened. He cursed women's frivolity and their airheaded behaviour, but he grinned back nonetheless.

"Funny, I thought it was me who had lost sight of you. I have been looking for you everywhere Amelia." he replied, internally seething. The nerve of the girl!

"Really? Why, I was here all along Mister Malfoy." she retorted. Her features had remained affable, but the sudden coldness in her eyes and the slight edge in her tone as she spoke his name didn't go unnoticed. He almost winced. What had he been thinking, referring to her by her first name? It wasn't like him to treat a lady with such intimacy, especially one he had just met a few hours ago. Apparently, she thought so too. Time to backtrack.

"I see. I might have bypassed you by mistake then. My apologies Miss Deauclair. Only, since I am the one hosting this ball, your mother asked me to take care of you and I assured her I would show you round, so you understand my concern when I realized you were not standing next to me anymore. I am sorry. I did not mean to appear overbearing." he told her suavely.

"All this dancing had exhausted me and I was incredibly thirsty. I am sure I had informed you of my intention to get a drink, but of course with all this noise you might not have heard me." she replied snootily. For a brief instant she reminded him of a spoiled child. Yes, there was definitely something brattish about her, but he guessed that came with the fact probably very few dared to deny her. He almost expected her to stomp her foot and turn her head away from him in order to pout. He forced himself to stay calm. She would not get the best of him.

"That is perfectly understandable, but I am nonetheless your host and, since you fall under my responsibility, I would feel awfully guilty were you to cross path with inadvisable company." he insisted carefully, feeling like he was walking on eggs.

"How thoughtful of you. However, no matter what my mother seems to think, I am perfectly capable of manoeuvring my way across a ballroom. Besides, I doubt I'd find any disputable characters among your guests, milord." she smiled up at him making Lucius grit his teeth in anger. She phrased it in such a way that contradicting her would make him appear as a fool, but, the very fact that Black was standing there, sneer in place and obviously aware of his discomfort, was proof enough that there was indeed less than recommendable people present tonight. Damn her for making him acknowledge that infuriating reality.

"Well, it is amazing what good connections and sheer daring can accomplish. Astonishing, really, how someone can get to places if he has little to no consideration for other's reputation and no respect for what's proper. Some people have no decency it seems." Lucius hissed finally allowing his disdain to show.

Black, who until now had remained silent, content with observing Lucius' interaction with Amelia, shifted and straightened, a leer darkening his traits. "If you have something to say Malfoy, don't hold yourself back. Out with it." the fallen from grace noble snapped.

"Am I missing something?" asked Amelia innocently, blinking in faint surprise.

"Let me enlighten you. I assume this man has not revealed his identity to you." Lucius drawled motioning to the black haired wizard who had the audacity to roll his eyes. Acknowledging Amelia's small nod of approval he continued on. "This is Sirius Black." he spat with venom. As he had foreseen, Amelia gasped in recognition, before disgust overtook her features, her meeting with Mrs Black clearly coming back to her full force along with the woman's angry rant about her good-to-nothing son.

"I never would have thought that appearances could be this deceiving. I am appalled such a person dared enter your home without invitation." Amelia said dryly, her gaze resting briefly on Black before shifting back to Lucius. Her reaction must have amused Black in some way for he chuckled softly at her words. Thoroughly offended, Lucius offered his arm to Amelia which she took immediately, obviously eager to leave Black's undesirable presence.

"He must have begged Mrs Potter to bring him along. I wouldn't put it past him. The younger Potter and him are friends, you see. He probably intimidated her too, she must not have had the heart nor the strength to deny him. The poor woman is getting old, Merlin bless her." Lucius added, gloating at Black's enraged expression and tense shoulders. Without another word, Amelia and he walked away and the evening went on.

They waltzed, they laughed and they smiled profusely, all thoughts of blood traitors and their degrading behaviour long forgotten. All was well.

* * *

><p>Lucius pushed open the door from the study room, but didn't venture much further than a couple of steps beyond the threshold. The guests were long gone and the rest of the house was sound asleep. Earlier in the evening, his father had informed him of the Dark Lord's wish to meet with him once the ball was over. He had expected to find his master waiting for him, but silence was what greeted him. The air in the candle lighted room seemed to weight on his shoulders and soon a bead of sweat ran down his back. As far as his memory went, this part of the manor had never felt this oppressive, but, devoid of the usual light pouring from the mullioned windows, it lost the lively atmosphere to which Lucius was accustomed to. Suddenly, a quiet rustle attracted his attention and his gaze landed on the armchair facing the hearth on the right side of the room. The temperature seemed to grow colder for a second before a voice rung out in the darkness, its slight higher pitch adding to the eerie feel. The murmur seemed unwilling to die out, the words still hanging in the air well after they had been whispered, like the image of a flame burned in one's retina and still apparent to them even once they closed their eyes.<p>

"Come forward, Lucius."

Lucius obeyed, carefully navigating his way around desks and low tables, cautious as to avoid stubbing his toe against any of the furniture. When he finally reached his destination, he bowed lightly and kept his eyes on the floor in a show of respect.

"I hear this evening's little soiree has been a resounding success." said Lord Voldemort. The man's head was bowed slightly, hiding his eyes from view and forcing Lucius, who had by now straightened, to stare at his master's crown of dark locks. Had the Dark Lord consented to look at him, Lucius would have find himself transfixed by a pair of red orbs and rendered incapable of any movement, as a bird trapped by a snake's glare.

"Indeed it was, my Lord."

"I expected nothing less from you, Lucius." added Voldemort in a condescending tone. His voice was full of malice and Lucius was well aware the comment was more of a mockery than a compliment, but, yet he said nothing. Only fool with a death wish would engage the Dark Lord in a battle of wits. "Were the Deauclairs among your guests by any chance?"

"Yes they were, Master." replied Lucius. He knew better than to question his lord as to how he had learned the arrival of Amelia's family. He had accepted long ago that Lord Voldemort had means to get the information he needed. "Mr. Deauclair couldn't make it to the reception as a lot is still to be done to ensure they get settled comfortably, but his wife and daughter attended the ball. I took the time to introduce myself to Miss Deauclair and I thought she was charming."

The Dark Lord let out a chuckle. "You thought she was charming, Lucius? Have you gotten tired of Miss Narcissa Black already?" laughed Voldemort before shaking his head. If he noticed Lucius' balled fists, he didn't mention it. "I can't say I blame you though. In light of what happened, a better man than you would have broken the engagement immediately. Apparently, even the purest family aren't safe from the occasional rotten apple."

"I only assumed, my Lord, that given the Deauclairs' status, you would be interested in them. I live to serve." Lucius said, viciously biting his tongue not to lash out in anger. Such an indiscretion would have him killed.

The Dark Lord met his gaze for a second and Lucius' heart stopped briefly for he was certain his master knew perfectly what he had been thinking. Voldemort smiled mockingly before his face grew serious once more. "So devoted... You did well though. The Deauclairs would be a decisive asset in the war we fight against the decline of the wizarding world. However, their departure from France was sudden and I am intrigued as to why they felt they had to move so quickly and more importantly so inconspicuously." mused Voldemort.

"Mrs Deauclair mentioned that her husband had wanted to expand his business to the British market for a long time and that, as soon as an opportunity presented itself, he seized it." provided Lucius eager to please. "Besides, they wanted their daughter to reacquaint herself with her roots. Apparently Mrs Deauclair's family originated from here."

"No. I do not believe a word of it. It seems more of a deceit in my opinion. It doesn't fit with the information that has been relied to me and if that's the story they feed the most gullible ones with, they are definitely running away from something." whispered the Dark Lord staring into nothing. Then his eyes snapped upwards and found Lucius'. "I want you to discover what they're hiding Lucius. Once you do, I'll decide whether I'll reveal myself to them or not."

Lucius shifted nervously from foot to foot. "My Lord," he swallowed and licked his lips. "I do not think you will need this kind of leverage with them. I mean... They are one of the oldest Pureblood families of Europe, surely they don't..."

Before he could continue, Voldemort interrupted him, looking livid. "Fool! Status and blood purity isn't a guarantee of pride and righteousness anymore. Did you already forget the Potter disaster? They, who descend from Ignotus Peverell himself, are completely blind to the menace the muggles represent! What about Andromeda Black? Getting herself knocked up by some filthy mudblood that's not worthy of looking at her, least touch her! And let's not mention Orion Black's oldest son. His betrayal and his apparent disdain with what we are trying to accomplish is inacceptable! We cannot afford having people thinking they can turn us down. I will have the Deauclairs joining me, whether they want it or not."

For Lucius, this was the first time he got to witness his master losing his cool. Voldemort's irises seemed to glow briefly and his magic filled the room, making it almost impossible to breath. "Of course, I understand my Lord." Lucius spluttered, incapable of controlling the tremor in his voice. He was aware that color had drained from his face, but that was all he could to do not to run out of the room screaming in terror. His reassurance seemed to calm his master's temper though and for that Lucius was grateful.

"The mother would be hard to approach. She had years to master the art of masking her feelings, especially if she married well. Wives of noblemen so important are expected to be well versed in Occlumency, these people have a lot more to lose after all. She will be particularly cautious now, alone among the sharks, but her daughter... Her daughter is young and probably still foolish, as girls her age usually are, she may be easier to manipulate." said Voldemort thoughtfully.

"She did seem a bit infantile." agreed Lucius.

"She will be attending Hogwarts I assume?"

"Yes, Master. She will be in sixth year I believe."

"It's a shame you have already graduated, Lucius. Having someone in the inside, watching her every move, would have been useful."

"That is not a problem, my Lord. Words of your great deeds have reached the ears of many and I am certain to find someone among the faculty's students that will be more that eager to assist you in your goals. I have ways to penetrate the school's grounds and make your will known."

"Ah, yes. That might just work." Voldemort smirked in satisfaction and waved his hand at him in dismissal. "Well, you know what to do, Lucius. Do not disappoint me."

"I won't, my Lord."


	3. Crash and burn

**-3-**

**Crash and Burn**

No matter what people like Lucius Malfoy thought, Amelia Deauclair was not a fool.

If anything she was a cold-hearted, level-headed, analytical witch. She had been brought up so. Knowing how to please and how to intimidate was an art and those who became masters in that domain were the ones the most likely to survive while tiptoeing their way around the beasts. Witches and wizards may not have fangs, but their words cut deep. She knew when to smile, when to laugh and when to appear upset. Nobles evolved in a world where etiquette was more of a guideline than a mere suggestion. She knew the rules by heart and abided to them religiously or, more likely, she had become an expert through the years at making people think she did.

Rule number one: purebloods did not have friends. It was an unspoken law that was instilled in nobles before they even took their first step.

Rule number two: never leave your heart in someone else's hands except if you've got their guts in yours.

She had understood the stakes and those were the only rules she had never meant to break. However, fate was a treacherous bitch and it rarely took people's wish and ambitions into consideration when laying out its plans. Amelia was perfectly aware she was going against everything she had been taught when, months ago, she had thrown caution to the wind and decided to let her hair down. Therefore the disaster that had taken place back in France, mere days from summer holidays, was entirely her fault. She simply could not play the part anymore; _he_ had made it impossible for her to continue to do so. Sometimes all it took to be thrown off the tracks was big brown eyes, boyish charm and enough determination to push through the walls. She had been doomed from the beginning.

There had been a moment when she had thought the both of them would remain sheltered from the outside world, protected by some crystalline dome in which what they decided to do with their lives was up to them. Oh... How she had wished so. However, as with everything made of something so fragile, a crack soon appeared in the glass dome and she had stared at it in horror as it slowly spread. The bubble she had retreated into, her haven, was falling to piece and nor him nor her could do anything to prevent its downfall. They had shared a glance at that point and she finally had to face what she had feared all along. There it was, in his eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. The pitying. They had held their breath for a second and then, everything had shattered and chaos ensued. Her parents made her pack her belongings the same evening. They were gone by morning.

She really should have known it would not last. Some things were just meant to crash and burn. She had been a fool then, for sure. Surely she should have known that friendship was unreachable for someone her kind. It did not lessen the pain though.

Loneliness is a terrible thing, particularly to those who have been blessed with good companionship long enough to see the fragile bonds deteriorate before them. Loneliness tears you apart from the inside and leaves you empty. Living with solitude is easy when you don't know any better. It is miserable and heavy but, going through the heartbreak that is the end of a friendship brings out a whole new level of sorrow.

Britain seemed so unwelcoming and their new house in London felt so cold that Amelia felt disconnected from the world. Left alone with her thoughts, she was assaulted by old demons all summer. Guilt as well as longing had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. It was something to leave someone behind. It was another to run away and leave a friend to deal with the mess you had made.

Not willing to face her father's stern disapproval and her mother's haughty indifference, she retreated in her own mind and, choosing to observe the outside world go on from the safety of her own room, she spent hours by the window, absently thumbing through a book she had no intention of reading. Her thoughts flew miles away and brought her back to France.

All she wanted was to go back to what she was before all hell broke loose, back when, for a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to just let it go. Careless, reckless, keeping at arm's length the worries and responsibilities. She wanted to be allowed to forget whom they spelled her out to be and go back to who she was. The girl who had trusted him enough to laugh wholeheartedly with him.

It had started off pretty innocently, as a way to keep the memory of him alive in her head a little longer. She would picture what he would have to say about this and that; how he would scoff at the vindictive comments her parents would throw her way or roll his eyes at the people her mother would force her to meet. If she focused she could almost hear his voice in her ear, ridiculing the stiff noblemen and ladies parading one after the other in front of her and urging her to give them a piece of her mind when they, as Purebloods always did, underestimated little old Amelia Deauclair, not looking past her doe eyes and heart shaped face. After a while she did not have to make an effort to imagine his presence anymore, she felt that he was a part of her and, it seemed as if her conscience, that little inner voice she had not known she possessed, had taken the liberty to borrow his tone and inflections.

This newfound escape was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it was all she could do to hold on to her sanity, on the other side, having discussion with yourself could hardly be considered sane at all. Soon enough, she was completely immersed in her dream world and more often than not, it would distract her from present interactions. She would have debates with herself, going down familiar roads and re-enacting conversations that had been held long before everything had gone awry.

Amelia knew that, in the end, this self-destructive trait would get her nowhere. It was deranged, and unhealthy at best but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was surrounded by people that wanted nothing more than take advantage of her. What better way to throw all of them off than making sure that she was damaged goods by the time her father tried to sell her off to some right jerk with enough titles of nobility to be worthy of her unstained blood?

The truth was that Amelia had never felt that much rage in her entire life. Her limbs were constantly trembling with suppressed fury, an anger she knew would serve for nothing, the previous debacle was proof enough that rebelling was futile. All that was left to do was to drown the ire, numb the pain and wait. Her time would come.

And wait she did. She had gotten pretty good at shutting herself off in the past years, but sometimes emotions were inevitable. There would be times when she would have to fight off the melancholy or the sadness but, more frequently, she had to hide the irritation she felt.

And to say Amelia Deauclair was currently annoyed would have been an understatement. Back stiff with displeasure, the girl stood in the middle of King's Cross railway station silently seething.

Pureblood witches didn't usually have to exert themselves. Ladies didn't habitually have to drag their own trunk and fight their way through a crowd of overexcited boys, giggling schoolgirls and emotional mothers. They didn't sweat, they let others do so. Yet here she was, desperately trying to howl her heavy luggage onto the train, and this, all by herself. Why the British Ministry of Magic would forbid underage use of magic was a mystery to her. She nearly growled in anger. Damn that bloody house elf for leaving her to fend for herself the second they passed the magical barrier! Even though she knew her mother had probably ordered Tecky to apparate straight back to the manor once Amelia was on platform nine and three-quarters, the girl couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. That old wrinkly creature was way too obedient for its own good.

Mrs Deauclair had refused to accompany her of course. Amelia had not expected her to do so either, she had known the moment she had informed her mother of her leaving that it was wishful thinking. Marguerite Deauclair had been nothing but cold to her daughter since their departure from France. Not that Amelia's mother had ever been anything but frigid. Besides, Amelia wanted nothing to do with the woman. The past few weeks had been particularly tense within the walls of the Deauclairs' household and Amelia was secretly relieved to be away for a couple of months. Merlin bless boarding schools. At least, she would be gaining back a bit of her limited liberty.

Her trunk was halfway on the floor of the train car when someone bumped into her from behind, almost sending her flying and effectively ruining all her efforts of the past ten minutes. As her luggage hit the platform with a resounding smack, she whirled around with fire in her eyes. Unfortunately, she was faced with a mass of unconcerned strangers who kept on discussing excitedly about new owls, dreaded N.E.W.T.S and some band called the Weird Sisters without taking a second to ensure she wasn't harmed. Apparently her attacker had not deemed important to stop in his tracks in order to apologise or even help her get her trunk back on the train. Well, things were just peachy, weren't they? She turned back to her belongings cursing bootlicking servants, disgraceful brats, uncaring mothers and rotten luck under her breath.

"Need some help with that?"

Only years of practice kept Amelia from gasping in fright. A tall teenager, who certainly had not been standing in front of her a few seconds ago, was smiling kindly at her, looking at her from under his blond fringe, obviously waiting for her answer. Somehow, even with the scar that ran along his jaw line and the tired look in his eyes, Amelia found herself oddly at ease around the boy, which was a sentiment she hadn't had in a long time. Maybe it was the latent kindness she could sense coming out of him or the way his eyes crinkled as he genuinely grinned at her, but the overall effect was pleasant and it made her forget about his unkempt hair and the poor state of his robes. She felt a smile tug at her lips in response.

"And they say chivalry is dead."

"Why, I always make a point to rush to the rescue of damsels in distress." said the young man bowing slightly before he swung the trunk over his shoulder as if it was weightless. She honestly had not been expecting such vivacity from him, he was not frail per se, but there was something fragile about him, he was emitting the kind of vibe one could get from a sick child. The impression was quickly quashed though as the boy sent a lopsided grin her way. Amelia repressed the urge to roll her eyes at him, he made her pathetic attempts at lifting the darn thing bloody laughable. So much for almost breaking her back.

"Oh? So you really do reach out to any defenseless girls? Out of the goodness of your heart? That seems pretty selfless. And admirable." pointed out Amelia as she followed him while he approached the stationary train. He shot her a glance and grimaced sheepishly. He looked so much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar that the girl shook her head at him.

"Ah, you caught me. Truth is, I've never seen your face around here before, so I figured you were a new student and I was curious. Besides, I'm a prefect so it's kind of my job." he confessed. He chucked the luggage on the wagon floor and climbed onto it.

"And here I was feeling special." sighed Amelia in mock disappointment. She smiled again when the boy gave her a pained expression.

"I've dug myself a hole, haven't I?"

"Quite." responded Amelia chuckling softly. She had tried not to laugh but, she seemed incapable of reining it in. Away from the oppressing presence of her mother and safe from the nightmares that plagued her nights, Amelia felt lightheaded.

The girl knew she was acting foolishly, bantering and joking around with a perfect stranger was hardly advisable given her situation, but she had missed it. She had craved this all summer, human interaction devoid of any afterthought, and she could not help the warm feeling that grew in her chest. It was something she could not afford to do when surrounded by the usual crowd that gathered around her. Acting friendly with purebloods would be like slashing your arm open while bathing in the ocean and then waiting for the sharks to come and eat you.

_"__Looks like the mask is slipping, doesn't it?__"_

The sound of her inner voice, loud and clear in her head, brought her down to earth abruptly. It was like a cold shower and she inwardly shook herself. She did not need a repeat of what happened at the Malfoy ball. Refocusing on the boy who had helped her, she noticed his outstretched hand.

"A true gentleman." she noted while taking his hand and letting him hoist her up.

"To the core. I am a Gryffindor after all." he replied proudly. Then, realizing she probably had no idea what a Gryffindor was, he opened his mouth in order to clarify. There was no need of course.

Their moving to Great Britain meant Amelia had to deal with a whole new crowd of snakes and she knew better than not doing her homework. Knowledge was power and a pureblood always came prepared to battle. Therefore, the young witch had done her research on Hogwarts as soon as her parents announced she would transfer. She had been quite bemused by the fact students were divided into houses based on their personalities. Certainly people were much too complex to be categorized and sorted into four groups in such an undefined manner. Bravery, cunning, intelligence and kindness, honestly? For someone like Amelia, to whom lifestyle had left her with no other choice than to become a good judge of character, it was evident there was much more than that to human nature.

Amelia went to stop the boy before he could drown her with his explanations, but thought better of it and decided to let him talk himself hoarse. You often learned a lot more by listening to people talk, the way they would present something was frequently more interesting that the information they shared.

"New student, right. Should have remembered that." said the wizard as he slapped his forehead at his own forgetfulness. He stared at his shoes as he tried to come up with the best way to tell her about the houses. Suddenly he looked up and smiled. "Ok, I'll keep it simple. You see, Hogwarts was built by four founders. There was Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. Every single one of them had different opinions of what qualities theirs pupils should possess. Unable to find a common ground they decided to split the students between themselves and each head favored the children that represented their ideal of the perfect wizard." The boy began to tick off on his fingers. "Ravenclaw kept the smart ones for herself, Hufflepuff welcomed the kind hearted ones while Gryffindor accepted the courageous ones within his ranks. Slytherin..." Hesitating, the teen frowned slightly, but quickly hid his discomfort. "Slytherin took the ambitious ones under his wing."

"Ambitious? You are saying this as if it was a bad thing." pointed out Amelia.

"Ah? No, no. Of course not. Knowing what you want and working to reach your goal, that's admirable." The boy, clearly feeling weary at the turn in the conversation, shifted from foot to foot. "It's just that there's a rivalry going on between houses. Nothing serious, just playful banter. Kids will be kids." he added with a small grin.

_"__Playful banter, eh? Doesn't it feel refreshing to finally meet someone who can't lie to save his life?__ "_

Amelia refrained from rolling her eyes. Well, that confirmed what she had suspected then. She was willing to bet that the Slytherin dorms were filled to the brim with purebloods. Ambitious bunch they were indeed. That was certainly the understatement of the century. If, as she thought, most of the children of noble lineage ended up in Slytherin, she had no trouble imagining what other traits characterized them. No wonder blondie over there wasn't feeling so hot about them. If his torn robes were anything to go by, he wasn't raised in wealth and there was not anything Purebloods look down upon more than misery.

"Right. How do they know which houses the first years belong to though?"

"They get sorted obviously."

"Sorted?"

"Well there this hat, talking hat I should say. It has a pretty potty mouth too." The sandy haired wizard laughed. "You would not believe how sassy it can get when it's pissed. James said it swore like a sailor when Peter and him broke into Dumbledore's office and set fire to..." The boy trailed off when he noticed her raised eyebrow. The rest of his sentence ended in coughs. "Long story short, it has a nasty temper, don't mess with it."

"I will try and remember that." said Amelia holding back a sneer. Boys...

"Anyway, that hat, it's called the Sorting Hat. Fitting isn't it? Well, it sort of look through your mind and figure out what you're made of."

Not good.

Amelia's blood ran cold. "Like Legilimency you mean?" asked the young witch carefully keeping the worry out of her voice. Amelia had not control over much in her life, but she had managed, after a lot of hard work, to ward off her mind against the intrusion of people that wanted nothing more than have psychological power over her. She was not going to let a stupid hat ruin everything she had accomplished. There were secrets she'd rather keep for herself.

The boy was caught off guard for a second before he nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I've never thought about it this way, but I guess that's kind of what it is. Don't worry though, no matter what people on the train will tell you, it's not painful at all." Not trusting herself to speak, Amelia did not answer him. Reading off her silence as nervousness, the wizard shoved his hands in his pockets, looked quickly over his shoulder before he smiled reassuringly at her, apparently having reached a decision. "Look, if you're that stressed out, just follow me, alright? There's a book in my trunk called Hogwarts, A History. It's really good and you'll learn more on the Sorting ceremony from that than from my half-baked explanations. Besides, my friends will be there and they are going to be thrilled to be the firsts to socialize with the new kid."

Before Amelia had the chance to answer, a cold voice rang out from behind her. "That won't be necessary, Peterson." Amelia didn't even need to look to guess who this was. And just when she thought life was getting a bit boring...

The effect was instantaneous. Peterson, or whatever his name was, tensed and his gaze hardened, eyes flashing amber for a second. "My name is not Peterson, Black, and you know that very well." replied the boy with a snarl. Amelia couldn't blame him though, Bellatrix Black seemed to induce various negative reactions in almost everyone she met.

"Tell it to someone who cares Peterson." drawled Bellatrix before turning her back on him and pining her soulless stare on Amelia. Unimpressed, Amelia stood her ground. "Miss Deauclair, I have been looking for you. There is a place in our compartment if you'd consent to grace us with your presence."

Perfectly aware she had little to no choice in the matter, Amelia nodded lazily and bid her goodbyes to the reddening boy by her side. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

The sound of her voice seemed to wake him up and he stopped glaring at Bellatrix long enough to smile sadly at her. "The pleasure was all mine."

"Yes, I'm sure it was Peterson." mocked Bellatrix with a nasty smirk. Then, not waiting for his comeback, the dark-haired witch started to walk down the train's alley without a glance behind as Amelia wordlessly followed her.

The train's departure must have been near because all the kids that had previously been screaming and running around on the platform were now doing the same in the cramped alley. This didn't slow Bellatrix down however, she walked steadily without pausing once as people hurriedly made room for her, flattening themselves against the wall or disappearing behind compartment doors. It seemed as if anyone knew better than to stand in the witch's way. Amelia doubted this was solely due to the Black's reputation of Dark allegiances, Bellatrix simply exuded violence as others would exude grace, it was in her core, it showed in the way she moved and in the way she looked at people. At the tender age of seventeen, her eyes already held promises of pain and sadistic games.

Amelia had sensed Bellatrix's soft madness right away. She had expected as much though and it didn't alter how she treated the young witch, she acted the way she did with any other noble lady, with coldness and mistrust. She dealt with insanity on a daily basis, one more unhinged girl wasn't going to change anything. All Purebloods were a bit mad after all.

Soon Bellatrix stopped in front of a compartment and opened the door for Amelia, gesturing for her to enter first.

_"__Well, someone is feeling wary... Does she think you're going to run or something?__"_

_"__Shut your trap! I need my head for this.__"_

_"__Gosh, Amelia. You hurt me.__"_

Trying to ignore the little voice in her head, Amelia focused her attention on the people now staring up at her. A boy with small dark eyes, rough ugly traits and a mean smile quickly rose and hastily took her hand in his before he pressed his lips to her knuckles and introduced himself as Evan Rosier. Bending her head slightly towards him, Amelia stared blankly at him, struggling to keep her face straight save for a twinge of disgust. The teen's lips were awfully chapped and his hands were unpleasantly moist.

"Back off Rosier. You're being overbearing. A lady needs space and I'm sure Miss Deauclair does not appreciate having your face so near hers." snapped a girl with coffee-coloured skin glaring at him from her seat by the door. She got to her feet and smiled seductively at Amelia, having apparently fooled herself into thinking she could get into the girl's good books by displaying the same charm she used to get what she wanted from hormone-driven boys. "Rosalind Toke at your service, milady."

Playing the haughtiness card, Amelia barely spared her a glance and walked around her to get to the far-end of the compartment where, standing by the window, a familiar face was waiting for her to reach him. Tall with dull grey eyes, breath-taking looks and a snobbish air that betrayed generations of careful inbreeding, the boy was everything his parents could have wished for. "Regulus Black, Miss Deauclair. I already had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

"Yes, I remember it quite vividly." said Amelia. Then, just because she felt like spiting him she added: "How is your mother, Madame Black?" The woman's behaviour had been despicable at the Malfoy ball and Amelia wouldn't be surprised if one day the resentful witch drowned in her own rancor and died of bitterness.

Amelia's tone was nothing but polite, but something in Regulus' eyes made her realize that he knew perfectly well she was having a go at him. Amelia almost wished the boy would put her in her place like she suspected he would have done if she hadn't been who she was, but, like the perfect gentleman he was, he didn't act on it. "She is doing quite well, milady. Thank you for asking. I will make sure she's informed of your concern for her."

Somewhat disappointed, Amelia nodded and turned to the others. "There is no need for all of you to remain standing. Please regain your seats." Amelia sat by the window on the opposite of Regulus while Rosier took care of her luggage and the others got settled. The train gave a lurch and slowly left the station. As the city gradually gave place to the countryside, the busy streets morphed into deserted meadows and Amelia became engrossed in her contemplation of the landscape, paying little to no attention to what was going on around her. Then, feeling the burn of stares on the side of her face, she lazily shifted her focus on the teens she shared a compartment with. Her eyes found Regulus' amused ones briefly before she glanced at Rosier who was, quite rudely, ogling her.

"May I help you?"

"Ah, say Miss Deauclair, you probably know Hogwarts is divided by houses by now?" inquired the boy.

"Yes, I was aware of that fact." said Amelia airily, hoping the wizard would leave it at that.

"In which one do you reckon you will be sorted into?" insisted Rosier.

_"__What is it with these people and their houses for Merlin's sake?!__"_

Annoyed, Amelia refrained the urge to snap. "Well, Mr. Rosier, I find myself quite confused. I am not certain as to which one I would rather be sorted into." replied Amelia suavely. She knew what he expected from her of course, but she was already fed up with the attitude of the whole lot, ordering her around, acting like right suck ups and asking questions they already knew the answers to, only to test her. It may be petty, but she had found out lately that making them fall in their own traps was quite entertaining and was oddly satisfying.

"What's so hard about that? I think it's quite obvious which house is the best, milady." retorted Rosier with narrowed eyes. The wizard, clearly hesitating between exasperation and disbelief, was getting red in the face as he glared at her. Bellatrix scowled at him whereas Toke paid rapt attention to the altercation and Regulus looked simply bored.

"Is it? Well, from the information I have collected from various individuals, Gryffindors are a lot of brainless troublemakers, Ravenclaws are a bunch of snobbish know-it-all, Hufflepuffs are a pack useless flobberworms and the Slytherin house is made of back-scratching cowards. Now, either you British are horrible human beings or I have been awfully lied to, but either way you can certainly see my dilemma." drawled Amelia. There was a moment of shocked silence which the witch revelled in, before hell broke loose.

"This is an outrage!" yelled Rosier eyes budging out of their sockets. "We Slytherins are the elite of the wizarding world's new generation. We carry within our hearts the true values of the magical community and its salvation within our blood." he growled. He pulled his hair in frustration and sat by her side, leaning towards her. "Who told you these lies, milady? I will make sure they won't ever be able to tarnish our house's reputation. When you insult one of us, you provoke all of us and I refuse to stand by while you are being badmouthed."

"While I am being badmouthed? Mr. Rosier, you are talking as if I was already sorted in Slytherin. As much as I appreciate your diligence, I hardly think it is appropriate." said Amelia raising an eyebrow.

"Miss Deauclair, don't you see, you are beauty and purity united as one, the epitome of what we believe in. Of course, you'll be in Slytherin, there is no other option." said Rosier having apparently forgotten he had asked her where she thought she would end up only minutes ago. He put his hand on her knee and smiled shrewdly.

_"__Is this kid for real?__"_

"I would be really careful with where you are going with this if I were you, Mr. Rosier. One could think you are overstepping your boundaries." breathed Amelia having finally had enough. Rosier retracted his hand immediately. "Flattery will not get you anywhere and it surely will not help you make your point." smiled the witch sweetly. Back-scratching cowards indeed.

There was a chuckle and Rosier glared at Regulus. "What are you laughing at? You, of all people, have no reason for laughing." eager to divert the attention from himself, Rosier wasted no time and attacked. "I've heard there was quite the commotion at yours, Black. Your brother finally decided to betray your family wholly, did he? How did your mother take that last blow?"

"Elated, she was. Threw a party too, everybody that mattered was there. The Minister of Magic, even. Didn't you receive an invitation?" retorted Regulus right away. Rosier frowned, obviously unable to recall this particular event. Regulus' face, which until now had remained relatively impassive, broke into a predatory smile. "Oh wait, you wouldn't, right? My bad..."

Short, devastating and to the point. Amelia was impressed, there was no doubt this kid had been taught by the best. Unfortunately for Regulus though, Rosier didn't seem to appreciate the quality of his wits as much as Amelia did.

"Why you little…!" snarled the burly wizard fumbling in his robes in search of his wand. Before he could do anything harmful, Bellatrix got to her feet and pointed her own wand at the base of his neck. Rosier froze instantly.

"Enough! Get a hold of yourself, you look like a fool." Bellatrix barked. Then turning her head towards Regulus she added, "And you! If you don't want to have your head served on a platter, I'd tone it down a notch." She went back to her seat and glowered at Rosier one last time. "If I hear you mention that blood traitor once more, I'll make you regret the day you were born."

Bellatrix then turned her dark cruel eyes to Amelia who simply grinned, daring the older girl to call her out for her attitude. Bellatrix smirked. "There is no doubt in my mind that Miss Deauclair will be sorted into Slytherin. After all, the others houses are filled with mudbloods and blood traitors, Miss Deauclair is neither."

_"__She's got you cornered, doesn't she?__"_

"As you say, Miss Black." agreed Amelia coldly.

The rest of the ride was event-less and spent in sour silence. A boy with greasy hair came to remind Toke of her prefect duties at some point, but other than that nothing happened. The sky was dark when they finally arrived at destination and Amelia welcomed the fresh night's air with relief before a booming voice startled her. Craning her head up, she surveyed the monstrosity of a man standing in front of her and weakly returned his greetings. The gamekeeper, as he presented himself, told her he had been informed of her transfer and asked her to follow the first years. Glad not to have to come up with an excuse to part company with Bellatrix and Co. Amelia nodded and did as asked.

Soon the witch found herself in a tiny boat, squeezed in between a boy with flaming red hair and a girl with pigtails. Halfway across the lake, the girl, captivated with the sight of the castle, leaned too far over the edge of the boat and fell head first into the water. Amelia was quick to fish her out though and, ignoring the child's spluttered thanks, she conjured a blanket to cover the girl's shoulders. Amelia had to admit, the sight of Hogwarts, illuminated and towering over them, was baffling.

Once they reached the shore, a stern looking woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, led them into the Great Hall. Amelia's eyes were immediately glued to the ceiling which for some reason seemed to be absent. How particular. A raspy voice somewhere on her left started to sing, quite horribly too, and Amelia realised with a jolt that the terrible chanting came from a battered hat sitting on a stool at the end of the four tables filling the hall. It didn't take her long to figure out this ugly piece of headgear was probably the famous Sorting Hat she'd been told about. Talk about anticlimactic.

Once the Hat was done with its… _singing_, McGonagall came forth and started reading off names on a long parchment. Bored to death, Amelia allowed her mind to wander, only getting out of her reverie to discreetly levitate the same drenched girl from before back on her feet when the kid, apparently unable to stand on her own two feet, face-planted on her way to the stool. Quite unsurprisingly, the eleven year old witch, whose name was allegedly Juliet Darlings, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Amelia's attention drifted away once again until Professor McGonagall called her name and it was her turn to try on the talking headpiece.

The last thing Amelia saw before the brim of the hat fell before her eyes were a pair of grey irises, watching her with something akin to half-hearted hope.

_"__Here goes nothing.__"_


	4. This house is no home

**Hey! I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait; finals were a pain. I'm done with school for now though so I'll get the chance to work more intensely on this fanfic. :) Enjoy this chapter!**

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><p><strong>-4-<strong>

**This House is no Home**

Worry was not part of James Potter's vocabulary. One could even say that the boy was as laid-back as can be. Fear had always been a concept that eluded him. His father told him numerous times that his lack of caution had gotten him almost killed more than once as a kid. It seemed he simply didn't have the same self-preservation instinct that usually kept children from kicking that one beehive behind the manor or jumping from the highest branch of the apple tree.

James often said that a life lived without taking risks wasn't worth living. James' mom, on the other hand, often told him he was a knucklehead and that he was going to make her die of a heart attack before her time. One day, while he was once again trying to convince her that being a daredevil was a worthy way to die without regrets, she lost patience and promptly retorted that falling through the ice of the frozen pond in his parents' yard wasn't going to prove anything except that he was an idiot.

James would get nervous occasionally of course. He would be jittery when asking Evans out. He'd get apprehensive when his mother screeched his full name. He still got stressed out by Quidditch games and could often be found behind the broom shed promptly puking up his breakfast right before the whistle blew. He constantly mulled over the marauders escapades under the moonlight and prayed nothing would disturb their outing. He would grit his teeth every time he thought of the cruel trick fate had played Remus, his kindest friend, and would get angry over the treatment Sirius got from his family.

It wasn't that James was completely unconcerned, he cared deeply about what happened to him and to people around him, but he had never been truly worried before. There had never been a time where he felt the situation was so out of control that he couldn't do anything to make things better.

If he failed, he'd stand up and try again. Remus turned out to be a werewolf? Fine. Let's become an animagus. Sirius got upset over something his cousin Bellatrix said over the break? Great. Let's egg that bitch's common room. Life was simple. He had always thought that for every problem there was a solution.

Things were changing however.

All through summer, James had sensed a shift in the air, there were signs of an oncoming storm. The world seemed a little darker, the atmosphere was heavy and yet no one would tell him what was going on. Diagon Alley was deserted and the few people daring enough to be seen there acted as if thunder could strike them at any given moment. The Daily Prophet reported more and more attacks, attacks that James couldn't make sense of. Children were ganging up against their parents, families were torn apart, entire muggle villages were being mobbed in the name of someone whose name people didn't even dare to utter. Late in the night, when James' parents thought he had gone to bed, he could hear them whispering worriedly together, their heads bend towards each other. His father, Head Auror at the Ministry of Magic, didn't talk about his job at home anymore and, when James called him out on it one time too many, he was on the receiving hand of the longest rant his dad had ever given him. Things were too complex, his father said. The situation was too grave for a teenager, who had no sense of what danger was, to stick his nose into it.

Not so unexpectedly, Charlus Potter's words only served to pique his son's curiosity. No matter how hard he tried though, James couldn't find out much about what got his father so stressed out. It seemed as if people's paranoia prevented them from discussing it openly and even the newspapers were strangely mute about what was happening behind closed doors. James eventually understood that this was a continuation of what was going on within the walls of Hogwarts, the discrimination of muggleborns, the fouled words whispered behind the so-called blood traitors' backs and the ever growing hate of muggles themselves. It was happening on a much bigger scale though and the consequences were much more mortifying.

At this point, James started to feel something he couldn't identify, some kind of heartache that wouldn't leave him alone and that would reach its peak when he thought of what this meant for his friends and family. This vague discomfort was nothing compared to the excruciating pain he felt however when, Sirius, his brother in all but blood, showed up one night, bruised and battered, asking whether he could maybe stay the night. James knew instantly who had done this to his best friend, it wasn't too much of a mystery after all, but it broke his heart in two nonetheless and that's when he finally understood what was happening to him, for the first time in his existence, James Potter was scared out of his mind.

Sirius had refused to talk about what had happened at first. It had taken hours of coaxing on James' part to get him to open up. Once he did though, James almost wished he hadn't. Sitting side by side on James' bed with their arms around their knees like they did on nights when flashes of lightening would keep them awake, the two friends whispered to each other in the dark. James watched Sirius' face in the dim candlelight as he talked, feeling as if he owed it to his brother to be brave. Padfoot, his eyes sunken and devoid of the usual light that make them look alive, told him hoarsely about how his mother and father had come to his room earlier that evening to inform him they had been approached by a man who dubbed himself Lord Voldemort. That self-proclaimed lord, explained Sirius, was the man people on the streets called You-know-who, a pureblood elitist who targeted muggles and muggleborns alike, going so far as encouraging and planning mass murders as well as terrorist attacks.

"They told me he wanted heirs from the most powerful families of Britain to join his ranks. They were elated. Mother told me this was my chance to make everyone forget about my previous impropriety." muttered Sirius.

What followed wasn't a surprise to James. Apparently Sirius' hag of a mother had not taken it well that her older son's answer was that he'd rather jump off a cliff. It was a miracle Sirius had succeeded to make his way to the front door through the constant stream of hexes and curses she aimed at him.

They stayed up late in the night even after Padfoot was done with his story. James, eyes wide open, was having a small panic attack. Things were definitely out of control now and all that was left for James to do was worry.

He worried about his mom and dad who, since as long as he could remember, had been fierce defenders of muggleborns. He worried about how, in times of adversity, some people became intolerant and fearful of what they didn't understand and how life for Remus would be harder from then on. He worried about Lily Evans and all the other witches and wizards, who like her, didn't need a magical background to rock their powers. More than anything, James worried for Sirius whose heart hid a latent darkness that wasn't there before, like some sort of permanent scar.

All in all, returning to Hogwarts was really a blessing. The school was the home of many of his most precious memories and he felt as if nothing could ever reach them behind those walls. On Hogwarts grounds they were the Marauders; Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail. They were invincible. James was desperately in need to feel invincible once again.

James's parents had apparated them early at the train station to make sure that this time, their son wouldn't have to run after the last wagon to climb onto it like he had done the last three years in a row. Now sitting by the window in the compartment the Marauders had claimed as their own since first year, James was waiting for Sirius to come back from the bathroom. Apparently the dog animagus could not wait one single minute more before changing into his wizard robes. He had been gone for twenty minutes now. Well, this wasn't suspicious at all...

The second that thought crossed James' mind, Padfoot made his grand entrance, throwing the compartment door open before flopping down on the seat. "I just saw Peter on the platform, his mother was still fussing over him the poor sod." exclaimed Sirius with an eye roll. "Couldn't find Moony anywhere though."

"Probably didn't even make it out of bed this morning." snorted James, knowing that Remus, even though he acted like a well behaved little boy most of the times, was a real terror at the crack of dawn.

"Wouldn't put it past him." laughed Sirius, eyes crinkling.

Both boys grew silent after that. For people that didn't know Sirius and James very well, seeing the two of them sitting side by side and not addressing one another was an odd sight. Most would have thought the wizards were at odds with each other. They could not have been further from the truth. In fact, when they were left alone together, Sirius and James rarely ever said anything. James had learned over the years that there were many things Padfoot preferred to be left unsaid and that there were some aspects of his life that he'd rather not talk about.

This had bothered James at first. The teenager came from a family that encouraged him to speak his mind whenever and wherever he felt like it. Therefore, to finally meet someone who was incredibly exuberant when surrounded by lots of people but never shared anything personal on a one to one basis, was quite frustrating for eleven-year-old James. However, friendship wasn't about getting along and being on the same page right at the beginning. It was a bond that developed through hard work and patience.

James had never had to put effort to get anything he wanted before, but he had known from the start that he would have been a moron not to try and get to know that boy he met on his first ride on the train. Even as a kid, Padfoot exuded this wildness, the kind of free spirit that you saw only once every few decades and that allowed nothing to stand in its way. James wanted to be part of whatever adventures that Black boy would get himself into.

So James waited. He laughed along with the boy. He went out of his way to make him smile and he pulled pranks. He stood by him when children at school looked down on him because of his name and his family's reputation. Sirius' sorting in Gryffindor was shocking and many noble families were outraged. So James defended the boy against every pureblood heir stupid enough to think that they could bully him only because he couldn't do magic yet.

Never in his life had James ever kicked more shins than during his first year at Hogwarts. Really, who cared if they didn't know how to use their wands yet?

Through everything James stayed. He stayed by Sirius' side when the boy felt down. He stayed when everyone told him Sirius was more trouble than what he was worth. He stayed even when Sirius wouldn't talk to him. He stayed when everyone had already left, unsure as to how they were supposed to comfort someone who didn't want to be comforted.

Sometimes words are meaningless. There isn't anything to say and all you have to do is be there. So that's what James did. Because no matter what Sirius said, he didn't want to be alone and James knew that. It had taken him time but James now felt that he knew Padfoot so well that words weren't needed anymore. James never felt more proud than when Sirius called him his friend.

James was so deep in thought that when Sirius talked he startled him out of his musing.

"This year is going to be a good one, James." said Sirius his eyes on the swarming crowd on the platform.

"Isn't every year a good one?" asked James looking up and studying his friend's face carefully. He kept his tone light but the boy had to refrain the urge to frown at Padfoot's words.

Sirius met his gaze. "No, I'm serious. Nothing is going to stop us this year, Prongs. I can feel it. Now that Wormtail finally mastered his transformation, things are going to get wild on the nights of the full moon." insisted Sirius with a grin. "Besides, I've already got enough ideas for pranks to make sure we drive dear old Minnie crazy! She won't know what hit her."

James hadn't needed any other clue to know something was off with Sirius, but now, seeing him rambling, something his friend rarely ever did, the boy had the confirmation that what he had feared all along was true. Sirius had always been, until this summer, like this resilient weed that grew in the garden behind your house. No matter how many times you plucked it from the ground and tore its roots from the soil, it always came back stronger than ever. At this instant however, James realized that his mate had been stepped on one time too many. To the point that Sirius needed to reassure himself that he was going to make it through. So James did what he did best and he listened. He nodded when Sirius exclaimed: "And don't get me started on Quidditch. Man, I know Harrisson is a right prick and having him as a captain is going to be a pain, but who cares?" He rolled his eyes to the obligatory "Hell, maybe you'll finally manage to get your girl this time around, eh?" that followed and forced a smile from time to time. He could tell that Sirius was aware he was having a panic attack of his own, but the wizard seemed determined to talk himself out of it so James let him be.

About five minutes after Sirius started to rant, Peter entered the compartment. Lost in his own world, Padfoot didn't notice his arrival right away and Peter, confused as to why his friend was acting so unlike himself, shot an uncertain look in James' direction. James only shrugged in response.

Now, what was interesting with Peter Pettigrew was that even though he acted as if he was slow and clumsy he was nothing like that. Or at least, he was much less of an idiot than what he liked people to believe. Having teachers and students alike underestimating his abilities was damn useful and had gotten them out of trouble more than once. Crazy how lies were taken in much easily when they spouted from an insecure and stuttering teen's mouth than from his confident and troublemaking friend's lips. Therefore, it hadn't taken Peter long to become a master in the art of creating a diversion and coming up with alibis.

Quickly understanding that Sirius was out of sorts, Peter took it upon himself to take Padfoot's mind off what was obviously bothering him.

"You wouldn't believe what nonsense that Lockhart kid is feeding everyone on the platform." announced Peter as he landed heavily on the seat beside Sirius. The dog animagus stopped mid-sentence and blinked a couple of times, bemused by Peter's sudden appearance.

Taking pity on Sirius, who was still looking quite flabbergasted, James answered Wormtail. "Lockhart? That jerk two years below us who claims that he's going to be the next Minister of Magic?"

"That very one. Apparently he and his family went on a trip to Greece this summer and Lockhart is telling everyone who's willing to listen that he killed a chimaera all by himself. He is going around showing his so-called battle scar to anyone who pass by him. That prick almost had my mother faint in fright."

"You can't kill a chimaera. Those things are vicious! Bet that idiot got mauled by a garden gnome and is too embarrassed to admit it." said Sirius, who seemed to have come out of his stupor. His comment was met with silence for a second before all three boys burst out laughing.

The ice was broken after this and conversation flowed. Peter carried on relating what he had heard on his way to the compartment. According to him, Matthew O'Connor had tried to sell him a fanged frisbee for ten galleons _"Ten Galleons? Is his frisbee covered in gold or what? This kid is completely bonkers!"_ Kate Winston had finally got rid of her acne _"Thanks Merlin. Perhaps now she'll stop looking like a potion gone wrong blew up in her face."_ and Gareth Finnegan had been named Head Boy.

"Oh, and everyone is talking about some new girl too. They say she's a transfer student." added Peter.

At this, Sirius' ears pricked up. James, knowing where this was going, shook his head and sank in his seat.

"A new student? What did she look like?" asked Padfoot frantically.

Taken aback by Sirius' sudden peak of interest, Peter raised his eyebrows. "Er… I don't know, I didn't see her."

"I did." provided Moony appearing out of nowhere. He struggled a bit to get his luggage through the door and, after a few pushes, shoves and well-chosen curse words, Remus managed to make his way into the compartment. Sirius, getting impatient and wanting Moony to carry on with his thoughts, came to his rescue, grabbing the suitcase from his friend's hands and hoisting it up on the racks above their heads. Remus, clearly exhausted, let himself fall at James' side and closed his eyes. "Yeah, she seemed kind enough but then Bellatrix came along and snatched her up. If that girl hangs out with the likes of Bellatrix Black, she can't be good news." the werewolf sighed.

Padfoot deflated and crossed his arms moodily, eyes darkening in displeasure. Too tired to sense the shift in the atmosphere, Remus continued. "The train hasn't left the station yet and I already had to calm down a hysterical second year that has had his owl's wing broken by a blasting curse because he didn't move out of her way fast enough. Told him Hagrid would fix it right away, but... Your cousin is a bloody maniac, Pads."

"Tell me something I don't know." mumbled Sirius.

Remus, finally catching on with his friend's mood, cracked an eye open. "What's the matter with you?" When he didn't get an answer from Padfoot, Remus turned to James, a frown marring his already scarred face. "What's the matter with him?"

"Padfoot's only bummed his newfound crush doesn't quite meet his expectations." mocked James.

Since the ball hosted by Lucius Malfoy, aka Lucy, Sirius hadn't shut up about this girl and James knew why. Somehow his friend had gotten into his head that Amelia Deauclair was a passive-aggressive rebel. James wouldn't have minded if Sirius had been his usual self, but in the state in which things were, the boy knew how much his mate wished he wasn't so alone in his situation. Sirius craved for someone to understand him and no matter how much James tried, there was no way he could completely get his brother's feelings. What James feared was that Sirius would, in his desperation for approbation, only set himself up for disappointment.

"I do not have a crush. I just thought she'd be different!" cried Sirius. "Still do as a matter of fact."

"I'm lost. How do you even know her?" asked Peter, dumbfounded.

"This summer when my mother forced us to attend Malfoy's stupid ball, Sirius talked to her. Apparently, Lucy came along and tried to ruin the party. This girl blew Malfoy off and now she's the only thing he'll talk about." grumbled James irritation transpiring in his tone. Sirius and he had had that conversation before but Padfoot refused to see reason and it was starting to get on James' nerves. It wasn't even worth teasing him anymore.

Remus' eyes widened slightly and he let out a chuckle. "Wow Pads, you're infatuated with her? That's not like you."

Sirius clearly not enjoying being on the receiving end of taunts, crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance. "You weren't there, ok. You don't get it." he barked looking James straight in the eye. Turning to Remus, he added: "And no! I'm not infatuated with her Moony!"

James rolled his eyes. "You're right, you're totally indifferent to her. Mate, get real, you're obsessed."

"That's rich coming from you Prongs." said Sirius, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"He's got you there." snickered Peter, a smirk splitting his face in two.

"Not helping, Wormtail." replied James curtly. How could Sirius compare his fixation on the girl to his relation to Lily? Amelia Deauclair was a brat. That much had been clear when he had met her. She looked down on everyone and was as haughty as can be. She didn't like Lucius Malfoy. Big deal, most people didn't.

"Okaaay…" said Remus, motioning for them to calm down with his hands. "Let's all take a deep breath. I think I know what this is about. You both need to take a step back and look at the bigger picture."

James leaned back and ruffled his hair, trying to regain his cool. He was letting his worry take over again. This was happening more and more these days and it infuriated him.

Remus frowned and faced Sirius who was still stubbornly staring at a spot a few inches above James' head. "Padfoot, the fact that this girl put Malfoy back in his place doesn't mean she won't buy into the elitist crap. You need to get this out of your head, mate. I understand why you wish she didn't, but it's a hell of a stretch. At most it means she doesn't take everything that comes out of Malfoy's mouth as cash. All it does prove is that she has a better judgment than that." Remus paused and scratched his ear, looking sceptical. Then he conceded, "Although, some critical thinking has never hurt anyone I guess."

Before James could say anything, Moony was onto him, his amber eyes pleading with him to keep silent. "Prongs, cut him some slack. I know where you come from mate, but he's not a kid anymore. I mean, I know you don't want him to get his hopes up but give him more credit. He did survive living under the same roof as Walburga Black for fifteen years."

James had no choice but to admit Remus had a point and relented albeit begrudgingly. Remus, obviously relieved to have managed to abort an altercation, relaxed and slouched against his seat, clearly exhausted. Peter on his part was looking at him with utter confusion, his face scrunched up as he stared at his friend in puzzlement.

"Ok, there's something I'm obviously missing here. I'm lost. How did you figure what they were talking about? And what does Padfoot's mother have to do with everything?" Wormtail asked Remus.

"Well, Prongs and I wrote a couple of letters to each other this summer. We kind of discussed this already. Amongst other things." trailed off Remus avoiding Sirius' eyes.

Padfoot's head snapped towards Moony and he paled quite drastically. "You told him?" said Sirius to James, unbelieving.

James however refused to feel guilty. "Would you rather have done it yourself?" he replied looking his best friend straight in the eyes. Few seconds passed and finally Sirius' features softened.

"No, I guess not."

If Wormtail had seemed baffled before, it was nothing to how he looked now. "Right. Now I'm sure something big happened. What the heck is going on?" squeaked Peter, his gaze going to one boy to another slowly.

James and Remus glanced at Sirius questioningly, waiting to see if the dog animagus felt strong enough to announce the news to his friend himself. Sirius stared at his shoes for an instant before he threw his head upward in true Padfoot fashion. "Finally had the guts to tell my mother to stuff it and get out of this hellhole. That house was never a home anyway."

Peter quickly went into shock and did an impressive impersonation of a fish for a moment. He blinked rapidly a couple of times before crying: "Bloody hell! Why isn't anybody telling this stuff when it happens, eh!?"

"Last time I did Wormtail, your mother intercepted my owl. My backside was never the same after the thrashing my mom gave me when she received the letter your mother sent back to her." mumbled Padfoot, rubbing his bottom as if remembering the pain. James had to grin at that. What masterpiece this prank had been! Mixing laxative in the bowl of soup at the Blacks' annual Christmas party; Sirius was quite the genius. Too bad Peter's mother had ratted him out.

Silence stretched after that and none of the boys seemed to know how to break it. Until...

"Well. Cheers, I guess." exclaimed Peter out of the blue.

Laughter erupted into the compartment. "Only you Wormtail." Sirius smirked.

If there was one thing to be said about Peter Pettigrew it was that he really had a knack at making the most awkward situation almost laughable. Things went smoothly after that and by the time they made it to Hogwarts, the boys were their carefree selves once again.

Once they arrived at Hogsmeade station, they hopped off the train and James had to listen to Sirius complain for the ninth time. _"Exploding Snap is a stupid game, anyway."_ Undeterred by the angry rumbling, Peter continued to gloat over Sirius' half burnt eyebrows, unmistakeable proof of the ignominious defeat the dog animagus had suffered at his hands. James rolled his eyes at them and scanned the crowd in search of Hagrid. Having taken a liking to the kind-hearted half giant while in his third year at Hogwarts, James was really looking forward to seeing him again.

It certainly had not been love at first sight between the five of them... Especially since the Marauders had this way of finding themselves doing stuff and going places that had usually been prohibited. As the gamekeeper, Hagrid had had to drag them out of the Forbidden Forest an obscene number of times, lifting them by the scruff of the neck like a bunch of very obstinate and danger-seeking kittens. No amount of smiles and winks had been enough to win Hagrid over. Bringing back an injured fairy to his hut had certainly done the trick though.

Finally, James spotted the tall man and waved enthusiastically. Unfortunately, Hagrid was talking to someone the boy couldn't see through the crowd. As his arm fell to his side a commotion behind him had James turning on the spot. His sight was then met by a mess of legs and flailing arms. Spotting Sirius' face, red from his attempt at reining his laughter, James quickly understood what had transpired and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Sirius, ever the sore loser, had finally had enough of Wormtail's guffaws and had shoved the short boy hard enough to send him flying right into Remus. The poor werewolf had not, unfortunately for him, been paying attention enough to his surroundings and was therefore greatly surprised by the mass that suddenly descended upon him out of nowhere. Moony had barrelled into a flock of third years girls, knocking them down like bowling pins. He was now trying to extricate himself from the pile of bodies that was lying on top of him without groping anyone in the process. Ignoring Peter's soft moans of pain, Sirius' hysterical laughter, Remus' flustered apologies and the giggling that ensued, James held out his hand to the young werewolf and pulled him off the ground. After clipping Sirius around the ear, they went in search of a carriage and reached the school in a record time.

They settled at their usual spot at the table in the Great Hall and immediately the four boys fell back into their old routines. Within minutes Peter was complaining about how much his stomach was killing him while Remus, too engrossed by his contemplation of the starry ceiling, failed, as usual, to notice Sirius tying his shoelaces with magic under the table. James had to smile at the familiarity of it all. They were home at last.

After what felt like ages, according to Peter anyway, the first years trickled in, following McGonagall like ducklings trailing after their mother. Automatically Sirius' head snapped in direction of the newcomers and James had to grit his teeth to keep his comments to himself. Unable to stand his friend when he acted like such like a love struck puppy, James looked away. His eyes traversed the length of the Gryffindor table and found the slender silhouette of Lily Evans out of habit. Taking advantage of the fact her attention was engaged with the arrival of the new students, he took a moment to observe her from afar. He had to avert his gaze almost right away though because, as for Sirius, what met his sight was not exactly what he was searching for.

James knew things had gotten out of control by the end of the previous school year. He had not needed Remus' reprimands or Lily's glares directed his way to realise that he had let his aversion for Snape go too far. James was not a complete moron nor was he cruel in any way, he knew that what he had done to his nemesis by the lake had been wrong. It troubled him to be partly at fault for the sullen state Lily was currently in. Lips thinned and hair lacking its usual lustre, the girl was determinately staring at the front of the hall as to avoid having to look at her former best friend, sitting directly opposite of her across the room. Once in a while though, she would steal a glance at him and she would look so sad, so defeated that James' heart clenched. It was obvious she was distancing herself from him because she had set her mind to it, but it was making her miserable.

As much as James hated to admit it, Snape had been Lily's best friend for the longest time and even though they were quite an odd sight to behold, he was painfully aware that the Slytherin had always been the first one the redhead had turned to whenever she felt down. Never mind the grease ball was a hateful dark arts loving git, James was the one that had pushed him over the edge and caused him to break the bond he shared with Lily. The girl had felt utterly betrayed and resented James for he had been the one to rob her of her closest confidant.

This being said, the bespectacled boy was certainly not the only one to blame. Snape's own despaired looks left James completely indifferent. The falling out between the two of them had been more than predictable. How someone as kind as Lily could ever be friends with a guy like Snape, a cold and haughty jerk that wanted nothing but to fit in with the posh offspring of the high society, was a mystery. Only a fool would mindlessly follow these brats around and adhere to their biased opinions on muggleborns while his friend, a muggleborn herself, was naively waiting for him to come back to his senses. It angered James to no end and, had he not felt so guilty, he would have hexed Snape into the next week. That boy had lost the privilege of looking at her the way he currently did all hopeful and full of longing. No one got to choose power hungry jerks over Lily Evans. No one had the right to walk away from this girl and leave her so broken-hearted. No one.

Loud whispering brought James out of his reverie and, blinking rapidly a couple of times, he forced himself to focus once again on his surroundings. It seemed like people had finally noticed that an older kid was standing next to the ickle firsties. Pupils were slowly connecting the dots, making the association between the rumors of the arrival of a transfer student and the girl with the aristocratic features and the golden curls.

Deauclair looked as disinterested as the last time James had set eyes on her. Face blank and devoid of any emotion, like one of those porcelain dolls muggles seemed so fond of, the witch gave the impression of being barely there, and yet, everyone's attention was on her. At the Slytherin table, people appeared smug and condescending. A seat beside Bellatrix had remained empty and Professor Slughorn, their Head of house, wasn't even trying to hide his satisfied smirk from where he sat at the front of the Great Hall. The snakes were obviously expecting Amelia Deauclair to become their newest trophy member.

Names were called one by one until, finally, a young girl, who later joined the Puffs, fell flat on her face while walking to the Sorting Hat. As she got up, as red as a beet, Peter snorted in amusement, apparently forgetting how, a few years back, he himself had tripped over his own feet right after he had put the Hat back on its stool. McGonagall continued to call students until only one lone figure remained standing, still waiting to be sorted.

"Deauclair, Amelia."

The Hall grew silent, the students transfixed by the grace with which the girl moved to stand beside Professor McGonagall, looking as if her feet barely touched the ground she walked on. She sat, knees together and ankles crossed, and put the Hat on her head. Her eyes disappeared from view, the brim of the Hat covering her face down to her nose. The tension which had already been high suddenly reached its peak, until...

Nothing. Time stretched and the Hat still did not speak.

Uncertain, James turned to Peter but found him looking as confused as he was. Brow furrowed, Wormtail shrugged his shoulders. "It seems like the Hat can't decide where to send her."

Beside him, Remus was deep in thought. "Maybe she's arguing with him or something." muttered the werewolf.

It was James' turn to frown. "Has this ever happened before?"

Moony's eyes became distant as he tried to remember something he read in a book he probably had opened a long time ago. "It's unusual, people tend to accept what the Hat tells them, but I think it has happened, yes. Not often though. I think they have a word for it. Hatstill or... Hatstall. Yes, that's it. When a sorting takes more than five minutes, they called it a Hatstall." said Remus quite pleased with the fact he had come up with a satisfying answer.

Sirius suddenly stopped trying to pierce holes in the Hat with his eyes long enough to pin them with his steely gaze. "Who cares what it's called! This is huge. Don't you get it, this could mean..." He didn't get the chance to finish his thoughts though because, at the same moment, the rip near the brim of the Hat opened wide.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Silence. Thick with tension, ear deafening, disbelieving silence. Gobsmacked, James sent an incredulous look at Sirius who, jaw nearly hitting the table, clearly could not believe his ears. Then, slowly but surely Padfoot's lips stretched and he smiled his first true smile since that terrible night when he had appeared on James' doorstep.

At the front of the room Amelia was still sitting with the Hat hiding half of her face. She stayed like this for a while, fingers white from gripping the edges of the stool, until an apparently troubled McGonagall extended a hand and tapped the girl's shoulder lightly. Amelia started before getting slowly to her feet. When she removed the Hat from her head, her face was giving nothing away as always. However, she did not make her way to her new comrades immediately. She stood there, shoulders stiff and head held high for a long minute. She took the time to scrutinize each table one by one. At last, her stare stopped on the Purebloods, all of them expressing different levels of outrage, still waiting for her from their side of the Great Hall.

Some brave Gryffindor then attempted to break the awkwardness by clapping uncertainly, eyes darting around to encourage his friends to follow his lead. The smacking sound echoed loudly in the stillness of the atmosphere before it died abruptly.

Amelia then turned towards the High Table and spoke, her clear voice not wavering once.

"There has been a mistake."

Her announcement was met by even more silence.

Dumbledore, who had, until now, been observing the scene with serene patience, cocked his head to the side, eyes crinkling in amusement behind his half-moon glasses.

"Has there?" the old man asked cheerfully.

Amelia didn't seem to find any humor in the situation though, and remained impassive. "Yes Headmaster, I specifically asked the Hat to sort me in Slytherin, as it is obviously where I belong, but it has refused to listen to reason and wrongfully put me in Gryffindor." explained the girl seriously.

Everyone stilled for a second before, abruptly, the silence was no more and the Hall erupted in loud chatter. Many, most of them sitting by the Marauders' sides, were indignant and made their outrage known in quite a loud fashion.

"Who the hell does this chick think she is?"

"I can't believe this!"

"Is she bloody out of her mind?!"

James didn't say anything. He was too preoccupied by the way Sirius' face had suddenly turned to stone. Gone was the grin and the twinkle in his eyes; the dog animagus crossed his arms over his torso and started glaring, jaw set.

The clamor died down the second Dumbledore raised his hand to tell his students to calm down. "The Hat makes no mistakes, dear." he said, gentle smile in place.

The headmaster's eyes were kind, but James recognized his tone. It was the same one his father used to warn him he was a step away from crossing the line. There was no negotiation past this point.

Amelia seemed unaffected by this though, and carried on. "I thought it was our choices that defined us. If this is true, my wanting to be Slytherin makes me, de facto, one of them, is that not right?"

"You've certainly given me food for thought, child." the man conceded. Dumbledore then pressed his fingers together and leaned forward. For James the message was clear, the conversation was over.

Amelia seemed to realise this as well and took a deep breath, apparently accepting defeat. Turning around, she walked past McGonagall, who was looking at her like it was the first time she had set her eyes on the girl. When she reached the Gryffindor table though, Amelia did not halt. She continued walking until she stood by Bellatrix's side. Then, acting as though no stare was directed her way, she sat down and started piling up food on a plate.

All heads turned to Dumbledore. Students who were waiting for the old man's reaction to the direct affront with baited breath were disappointed however. The headmaster had already moved on and was happily digging into the bowl of mashed potatoes that had popped out of thin air in front of him. It was Professor McGonagall who, nonplussed by the whole incident and the lack of discipline with which Dumbledore had handled it, shook herself out of her stupor and marched to where Amelia was sitting like a queen among peasants.

"Miss Deauclair, I understand you don't quite get how things are done around here, but you are expected to sit at your own table, with your fellow Gryffindors."

Amelia didn't even grace the teacher with a glance. "Professor, it would seem that, for now, I will have to bend to the principles of this school. Until my father hears about this, I will attend classes and sleep in the same dormitory as the students under your care. However, as far as propriety dictates me to follow the rules of the institution that provides me room and board, you have not, in any case, the authority to tell me who I am to associate myself with." The girl then looked up and stared in the woman's eyes with as much sternness as the Transfiguration professor when catching one of her pupils skiving her class.

McGonagall seemed startled for an instant before her face turned sour. "I am pained you have decided to behave this way, Miss Deauclair. Students in Gryffindor have a lot to offer and denying them the chance to let them welcome you into their ranks is hardly the best way to make friends. However, I must admit you are right, I cannot force you to socialize with them."

"I am pleased that we are on the same page Professor." replied Amelia. Her attention was back to her plate and she missed the intensity of the glare McGonagall sent her. James suspected Deauclair did, in fact, felt the heat of the woman's stare on her but that she opted to ignore her. Reckless move.

The argument was cut short though as the older woman noticed all the children gaping at the scene. Deciding retreat was the best option, McGonagall huffed and went back to sit in the seat next to the headmaster, cheeks red and angry scowl in place.

Since Amelia had been sorted last, dishes were already on the tables by the time the confrontation was over. Awkward silence remained in place though and people looked around uncomfortably, unsure of what the right course of action was at that point. Teenagers hesitantly grabbed food and conversations started flowing but the volume level never quite reached the degree it usually did.

When James finally gathered the courage to face Padfoot, his friend was in the process of shoving what seemed like a record amount of chicken wings into his mouth. The sight would have normally comforted Prongs, Sirius often made a habit of forcing as much food as he could into his gob. Puddings, brew and pork chops were Padfoot's own security blanket. However the way Sirius was glowering at his chicken, like he wished he could murder the poor beast all over again with the force of his ire, was definitely not healthy and it worried James greatly.

"Sirius."

"Shut it James."

"Mate, listen."

"No. I don't want to hear it okay?" snarled Padfoot, teeth bared. "If you want to tell me that you 'told me so', you're going to have to wait for tomorrow, alright. I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. It."

James reeled at the harshness in his friend's voice. He knew that tone.

With time, Sirius had learned how to let things slide, hurtful words and bitter disappointments rarely ever got to him nowadays. However there were times when he would let his guard down. It usually had something to do with his brother or his psychopath of a cousin. Those low blows were the ones that crushed him the most and when it happened, the boy would react the only way he knew how, by lashing out at others.

Apparently, Amelia Deauclair had managed to hurt Sirius Black. Deeply.

"Pads, I doubt that's what Prongs was going to tell you." intervened Remus, ever the peace-maker.

"Whatever."

Peter, Remus and James exchanged an alarmed look. James, knowing better than pushing it, moodily started eating.

He knew this was going to end like this. He knew it.

Balling his fists, he casted a glare at Deauclair who was quietly talking to Bellatrix while all the others snakes hung on her every words. The story was repeating itself again it seemed. Good people were always looked over in the end. Glancing back at Sirius, whose ears were red, a clear sign the boy was feeling upset, James felt his anger mounting. This wasn't fair. Deauclair did not have the right. She was not allowed to pain his mates like this.

James decided then and there he was going to have a little talk with the troublesome brat in the near future.

In the meantime, he would worry.

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><p><strong>So?! What do you think of Amelia's reaction? What about James? Pretty overprotective kind of bloke, I'd say. I loved getting into his head and making him interact with Sirius.<strong>

**Kudos to those of you who guessed that Peterson was in fact Remus. **

**Thanks for the reviews, they really helped me find the motivation I needed to get this chapter out! Until next time!**


	5. Animal instincts

**Hey! So I got a little carried away with this chapter. I could have easily split it in two chapters, but I kind of realised that after it was done. Hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>-5-<strong>

**Animal Instincts**

Remus Lupin was an accomplished liar.

Although according to his friends, who could go on and on about how they read him like an open book, that statement was highly disputable. He had been told his poker face was absolute crap and, to be frank, except on occasions when his life depended on it, the werewolf was incapable of misleading anyone. He simply found it much easier to hide behind some textbook or another than to try and school his features into a blank mask like Sirius could so effortlessly do.

However, true masters of deceit are not defined by the way they deceive others but by their ability to fool themselves. When it came down to this, Remus was gifted with unequalled talent. He lied to himself on a regular basis after all, little white lies that kept him going through the day. He kept on repeating the same words until he was convinced of their truth.

"_I'm fine."_

"_It doesn't hurt."_

This was a routine he was accustomed to, having been bitten at age four, the boy had a lot of practice at faking to be alright even though he was not. At first, he had done so to appease his parents who felt incredibly guilty, particularly his father, Lyall Lupin, who had been denouncing Fenrir Greyback's barbaric acts publicly for weeks before the monster launched his attack on his son. After a while though, the werewolf had come to realise that he felt relief at the comfort, no matter how small, those familiar words provided. There was not any real meaning behind the reassurances, nothing could take away the pain, and he knew that. However, constancy was something that was severely lacking in Remus' life, what with his condition and the atrocious transformations which came with it, and hearing someone, even though it was himself, tell him he was going to be okay was strangely soothing.

Things were easier since he came to Hogwarts. For the first time in his life, Remus had a purpose, something to strive for and that, finally gave him hope that his lycanthropy was not the only thing the world would remember him for. Remus was ready to do anything, going as far as working himself close to exhaustion, if it meant he got to be something else than a monster before he died.

Somehow, Remus had gotten into his head that if he graduated as one of the top students he might get a chance at a more brilliant future than the one he was destined to. It was a foolish dream, and yet, Remus couldn't help but to hold on desperately to it. How could he not? Remus, albeit relatively humble, was a proud man and, therefore, could not resign himself to a life of misery and self-loathing. He knew he could become more than an unemployed social pariah. Giving up now would be the death of him.

And so, against all reason, Remus studied, working his ass off to prove to himself he deserved to attend Hogwarts; that he was worthy of the trust Dumbledore had shown him by accepting him as a pupil. Unlike James and Sirius, whose brains simply soaked up spells and jinxes like sponges absorb water, Remus had to stay up late on most nights, sitting at a desk in the confines of the library, surrounded by tottering stacks of books. It did not bother him though, wearing his eyes out on textbooks written centuries ago was always better than what was waiting for him elsewhere.

It didn't matter if people thought of him as a goody-two-shoes, keeping his mind busy was all he could do, not to let his disease take over his life. Being inherently anxious though, there were nights when, laying wide awake in his bed with nothing to distract him from his dark thoughts except for Peter's loud snoring, Remus was submerged by panic. The day's pretenses dropped with the dying light of the sun and Remus could not help but despair.

He was aware Hogwarts was a safe haven, people out there were not as understanding as Dumbledore and healers were not as compassionate as Madam Pomfrey. On the rare occasions when his condition had been revealed to strangers, the response had been quick and harsh. Remus doubted people's hate of werewolves was going to change anytime soon, especially these days. Rumours were that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was recruiting amongst werewolves, promising them a better fate than what society could offer, which was not much. Deep in his heart, Remus knew his relatively worriless days would end the second he stepped out the door of Hogwarts and this, no matter how much he fought for it not to happen.

These were the fears that plagued Remus' nights and that he tried so hard to evade during the day. Being rejected for something he had no control over was agonizing and it ate away at him. More often than not, Remus would be able to calm himself enough to fall asleep. Sometimes though, his heartbeats, drumming painful against his ribcage, would keep him awake while chills ran down his back and his breathing got ragged.

This first time it happened at Hogwarts, Remus was distraught, his mother was usually the one to sooth him back to sleep. Alone on his bed with the curtains drawn, Remus had started hyperventilating, he was far from home and nobody was there to embrace him when he needed it. He was feeling downright miserable until someone had quietly poked his head through the scarlet curtains and then sat on the edge of his four-poster bed.

"_Remus?"_ had come the small voice of James Potter from within the darkness. _"You alright?" _

Remus didn't have a clue about how the boy had figured out he needed help but he was grateful he had. James Potter had given Remus the impression, when he met him on the train that same day, of being quite spoiled and obnoxious, but there was apparently much more to him. The eleven year-old boy, his hair dishevelled and his eyes barely opened, had somehow known what to do when he did not get an answer from the young werewolf, leading Remus to the Common Room, he had made him sit in front of the dying fire and had taken place beside him, his shoulder touching his.

Remus had eventually calmed down and, as the two teens had returned to their dormitory, the werewolf thought that, as long as his secret was kept safe, maybe making friends with someone like James Potter would make his life at Hogwarts much easier and fun. He had been right of course. Stepping out of his comfort zone and breaking out of the shell he had retreated into since the day Fenrir Greyback had crossed paths with him was totally worth it, especially since, through James, Remus befriended Sirius and Peter.

Being part of a group that acknowledged him and accepted him as part of their own was liberating. Remus could not believe his luck, things like this habitually did not happen to him. Such happiness was reserved to others, people unstained by hatred. Years later, well after his friends had discovered his lycanthropy and had confronted him about it, Remus was still quite bewildered. He had friends. People actually cared.

Knowing he was not so alone anymore was amazing but it did not make his anxiety disappear and every few weeks or so, James, in an attempt at shaking Remus from his panic-induced state, would get up, grab him by the collar and drag him down to the kitchens to have a hot chocolate. Remus still had not figured out how James could possibly guess when he was silently freaking out, but the bespectacled boy always did and he never talked about it when morning came, which was a blessing in the werewolf's eyes.

Finding people that were ready to become animagi for you was not something that occurred every day and Remus was careful not to ever take the Marauders for granted. He would go through thick and thin for them without a second of hesitation.

This being said, Sirius, James and Peter were not perfect and could act like dumbasses from time to time, especially when Slytherins or girls were involved. Since Amelia Deauclair was a girl and a Slytherin, she could only mean trouble. Well, the witch was not a Slytherin per se, not for a lack of trying, but she was still a haughty pureblood and Remus knew from the dark expression on James' face that things were just about to turn ugly.

After he was done with his Prefect's duty for the night, which consisted of leading the first years to their dormitories, Remus had joined the rest of the Marauders as they lounged on the couches that faced the hearth. The atmosphere in the Common room, habitually joyful, was heavy and it did not take a genius to guess why. What had happened during the Sorting was obviously still in everyone's heads. Gryffindors were sociable people by nature and to have someone reject them so thoroughly was not something they were accustomed to. Remus was also shaken, after all it was not every day that a girl challenged the Hat's and the headmaster's decision, but, unlike his friends, he was used to strangers looking down their nose at him.

Noise was then heard from outside the portrait hole and a few seconds later, the picture of the Fat Lady swung opened. Amelia strolled into the Common Room, looking distracted. Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, the young witch had remained behind with the Slytherins after the end of the Welcoming Feast and the werewolf was pretty sure no one had bothered to tell her where the Gryffindor Common Room was. Her finding her way around the castle was quite a miracle in itself but how she had managed to bypass the portrait without knowing the password. That was a real mystery.

The second she set a foot into the room, Amelia was the center of attention. After taking a few steps in, she seemed to realize that all eyes were on her and that around a dozen of teens or so had risen from their seats and were slowly making their way to her, blocking the staircase that led to the girls' dormitories.

"Oi Deauclair!" called James from the armchair he was sitting in. The boy's face was relatively calm but Remus could see the storm raging in his eyes, James was preparing for battle. He got up and joined the crowd now gathered around Amelia, Peter following closely behind. Remus casted a glance at Sirius, who was still blankly watching the fire, and hesitantly got to his feet. Might as well try to contain the damage.

Amelia scanned the faces of the people surrounding her until her gaze found James'. She smiled lazily. "What is this? Am I about to get mugged?"

A dangerous smirk appeared on James' features. Remus almost groaned. This was not good, this was not good at all. James was pretty laid-back but if you angered him well enough, he reached a point where his usual morals did not apply anymore and he turned real nasty. Do not poke a sleeping dragon, they say. Looking at the Gryffindors now, Remus was reminded more of a pack of wolves than a pride of lions.

"Oh nothing like that. Don't worry. I just fancy a little chat with you." said James, his voice so sweet that Moony felt his insides squirm in discomfort.

"A chat?" asked Amelia gesturing mockingly to all the onlookers. Clearly she thought their attempt at being intimidating made this encounter something more than a friendly conversation. Remus could not really blame her. In the back of his mind, a little voice was screaming at him to put an end to this masquerade before it got out of hands, this was his duty as a prefect, it was what was right. However, when Amelia's eyes bored into his, a spark of recognition lighting her gaze, Remus looked away. She was the one who had started it. She had almost asked for it. She should be the one dealing with the turmoil she had created. Right?

"And who demands to have a word with me, may I ask?" continued the girl.

"Potter. James Potter." supplied Prongs.

"Ah yes, Dorea Potter's son. I remember meeting you at the ball Mr. Malfoy held this summer." said Amelia, looking expectantly at James. The boy, though, refused to acknowledge her attempt at reaching out to him and remained silent. Amelia took the hint. "What is it that you want to talk about, Mr. Potter?"

James squared his shoulders. "I'd like you to explain why you seemed so adamant in your refusal of your sorting in Gryffindor."

"Yes, I think we would all like to know." added a new voice. Startled, Remus turned to his right. Sirius had, at some point, risen from his spot in front of the fire and joined the party. Remus, although he was glad his friend had shaken himself out of his catatonic state, was not sure this was for the best. If James could be impulsive, Sirius was certainly ten times worst.

Amelia's eyes, upon seeing Padfoot, widened slightly but she recovered fast enough. "Well, Black I would say this comes as a surprise but I probably should have expected this." she said. She then turned back to James. "You obviously took my reaction in the Hall the wrong way, Mr. Potter. It was not my intention to offend the Gryffindor House. I simply wanted to communicate to Headmaster Dumbledore my wish to be sorted into the Slytherin House and nowhere else. You should not have taken my statement as a personal insult."

Bursting into laughter, James turned to the Gryffindors that stood all around them. "Hey guys. Did you hear the missy over here? She basically spat at our feet and begged to be sorted into another house, but that's okay, we're the ones who are making a big deal out of this. Why don't we all stop overreacting, eh?" exclaimed James condescendingly. Nudging Sirius' arm he added "Padfoot, mate, that girl is hilarious, is she not?"

"Quite." replied Sirius dark eyes fixed on Amelia.

James, dropping the cheerful act at once, faced Amelia. "So Deauclair, enlighten me, what do the Slytherins have that we don't?"

Amelia had been watching James do his little show impassively until now but, suddenly, her face broke into a mean smile. Shit was going to go down. "Well, I think it's quite obvious Potter."

"I want to hear it from your lips."

"Fine. I wanted to be sorted with the Slytherins since, apparently, that's where all purebloods go. Well all the ones that matter, that is." added Amelia meeting Sirius' glare.

"What? You're afraid being in presence of muggleborns and blood traitors is going to contaminate you?" snarled Padfoot.

"You are making hasty assumptions yet again." replied Amelia in a flash. "I have been introduced to many people during the summer and they all happened to be nobles. They represent known territory for me. We are all looking for the sense of security that comes with familiarity Black, it is the nature of mankind."

"That's bullshit." scoffed Sirius rolling his eyes at her.

"Really. Well, let me demonstrate then." Huffing, Amelia turned away from Sirius and addressed James. "Tell me Potter. Your family is all in Gryffindor, yes?" Taking Prongs' silence and the deep scowl that appear on his face as a sign of acknowledgment, she carried on. "It has been drilled into your mind since you were a boy that you would find a new home in the Gryffindor House, has it not? Pray tell, what would you have done if the Hat had sorted you in, say... Hufflepuff, instead of sending you with the lions?"

"I certainly would have been disappointed but I still would have learned to know my comrades." said James defiantly. Remus had noticed his slight hesitation though and therefore he had no doubt Amelia had spotted it as well.

The witch threw her head back and laughed. Her laugh was cold, humorless and it chilled Remus to the core.

"Potter if you are going to lie to me at least try and be convincing."

James was unsettled, this confrontation was going awry. James was used to having the upper hand in these altercations and right now, Amelia was leading him by the nose. "Our situations are different. Your parents were not students here, they didn't have expectations as to which house you would end up in."

It was obvious James was grasping at straws and had started talking without thinking. Remus knew as soon as those words left James' mouth that they were inaccurate and he was sure Prongs was aware of this as well. The werewolf did not know much about Purebloods but, if Sirius' family had taught him anything it was that nobles always had high expectations for their children.

Raising one delicate eyebrow, Amelia stared at James in a way that suggested she could not imagine he was being that stupid. "No expectations? Really, Potter? I do not know how your parents raised you, but mine always taught me to keep within my own kind." drawled the girl. If the coldness in her voice was anything to go by, James had just crossed the line.

"By your kind you mean narrow-minded bigots, I suppose? Obviously, my parents aren't prejudiced purists like yours! They understand that the value of a wizard can't be found in his blood but in the force of his character. They know that two individuals don't need to come from the same background to be friends." James told her hotly, fists balled.

"Friends?" asked Amelia with a smirk. "Oh, you poor naive little thing. I did not come here expecting to make friends, dear. I don't need friends. What I need and expect from people is respect, something you seem incapable of."

"Respect is earned." declared James standing tall in front of the witch.

Amelia's face softened for a fraction of a second. "Maybe in your world Potter, but not in mine."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." snarled James with conviction. "Respect given to you for anything else than your actions isn't worth crap."

Amelia's eyes flashed dangerously. "Fine. I will humor you." she snapped. "Tell me, what have you lot done so far that could have inspired respect on my part? Let's have a look at Gryffindor's virtues." Amelia paused and raised a finger. "Noblest of the heart." Two fingers in the air. "Courage." The girl took the time to survey the crowd disdainfully. "Well yes, I _certainly_ have been served." She turned on herself and pointed to various teens as if counting the people present in her head. "About... twenty against one. That's perfectly chivalrous. Maybe as much as letting it happen." Her eyes found Remus and she glared at him haughtily. The boy felt himself flinch.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken but, knowing something to be wrong and not acting on it because one is too afraid of the consequences, that's the definition of cowardice, is it not? In terms of bravery, I have seen better." continued Amelia still pining Remus with her stare. The werewolf's cheeks were red with embarrassment. Unable to defend himself against the accusations blatantly directed at him and he immersed himself in the contemplation of his shoes. She was right. He had told him himself he was a prefect and that she was to come to him if she required help. It did not matter who she was or what she had done to deserve this, it was his duty to avoid these kinds of situations.

Unfazed by James' reddening face, Amelia went on with her tirade. "Let's not even talk about arrogance because that, that I've seen plenty tonight. All in all, Gryffindors seem to be all talk and no trousers." spat Amelia. "After all this, can you really blame me for not wanting to be sorted with you lot?"

Anger reaching its peak, James drew his wand. The silence grew deadly.

"Mate, don't do this." warned Padfoot as Remus called James' name in alarm. "That's exactly what she wants."

Padfoot was not mistaken, there was a weird glint in Amelia's eyes. Attacking her while she was defenceless would put James in an extremely tricky situation. If he won the duel, people would think he was a coward, and violent at that. If he somehow lost, the whole school would know by morning that he had been defeated by a weaponless girl and he would become the laughing stock of the entire faculty. Either way, cursing her now, even though she was being more than infuriating, was not an option.

"Stay out of this Black. I think your friend is old enough to make his own decisions." said Amelia suavely without looking at Sirius. "So what is it going to be, Potter?"

Amelia closed the distance between James and her in two strides. She stood so close from the boy that the tip of his wand almost touched her forehead.

Time stilled while everyone held their breath. Then...

"What on earth is going on around here?"

Sprinting down the girls' staircase was one enraged looking Lily Evans. Face as red as her hair, she started to elbow her way through the crowd and, within seconds, she was by Amelia's side, hands on her hips. "Care to explain this mess, Potter?!"

James went to open his mouth but before he could make a sound, Lily had already interrupted him. "I was gone for fifteen minutes. Fifteen! All I wanted was to make sure the first years were settled well and then go back to bed. Imagine my surprise, Potter, when I stepped out of their dormitory only to hear raised voices coming from downstairs." said the redhead in a low tone that betrayed her frustration. One thing to know about Lily was that it took a lot to spark her ire, but when someone succeeded, mainly James, her temper was quite volatile.

"Merlin Lily! You know she's the one that started it. All she's done all night is to insult us! You didn't hear the things she just said. Girl or not, she deserved to be hexed." exploded James.

"By Morgana! Stop being such a drama queen, Potter. You practically begged me to make this personal." sneered Amelia.

"I do not want to know who's at fault here. I want this insanity to stop. Now." Lily stated while rubbing her temples. Looking up at the onlookers, she dispersed them with a glare. She then cocked her head at Amelia. "Well, Miss Deauclair, for someone who just made it here, you instilled quite the reaction. You sure know how to make an entrance."

Advancing on Amelia, she offered her a hand. Behind Lily, James' eyes seemed about to pop out of their sockets. "I'm Lily Evans. Gryffindor prefect. And muggleborn." added Lily with an afterthought. Remus had known Lily long enough to recognize this was a test, the redhead always made her own opinions on people and always gave them the benefit of the doubt.

After a moment of consideration, Amelia, amused, copied Lily's particular way of presenting herself. "Amelia Deauclair, heiress of the Deauclair House. Pureblood. But that goes without saying."

Then, to the Marauders astonishment, she shook Lily's hand. A little satisfied smile appeared on Lily's face. "Well, you will be sharing a dormitory with me. The other sixth years girls already hit the sack so I'll show you your bed. You must be exhausted."

"Indeed."

And with that, they were gone. The Marauders stayed rooted on the spot for a long minute, dumbstruck.

"Well, that settles it." said James. "I'll never understand birds." More silence followed.

"Let's go to bed. I'm beat." sighed Peter finally.

They climbed the stairs that led to their dormitory and once inside the familiar room, Sirius made a beeline for his bed, closing the curtains around him without a word.

Seeing James' distraught expression, Remus patted him on the back comfortingly. "Don't worry Prongs. He'll get over it soon enough." said the werewolf half-convinced by his own words.

James nodded distractively and changed into his pyjamas, still looking quite worried. Remus threw himself on his bed without bothering to undress. Soon, Peter loud snores could be heard. And Remus was still staring at the canopy of his bed.

* * *

><p>"Come on Moony. Wake up. We're going to be late for class." whispered a voice in Remus' ear, slowly shaking him from his slumber.<p>

"What day is this?" asked the werewolf, head buried deep into his pillow.

"Wednesday." supplied James.

"Fucking hate Wednesdays."

"Good thing it's Friday then." deadpanned the bespectacled boy.

Remus extracted his face from his bed long enough to shoot a glare at his friend. "Bloody hilarious, Prongs."

Attempting to block out James' loud laughter, Remus pulled the covers over his head. However, he soon accepted defeat and slowly sat up in his bed. He watched dazedly as Prongs coaxed Peter out of bed by bribing him with bacon before bending over the lump that currently was Sirius Black. Blinking back sleep, Remus went in search of clean boxers to wear. He heard a yelp in the background and knew without turning that Sirius was now drenched in water and throwing daggers with his eyes at a cackling James.

"Shower's mine!" called Remus making his way to the bathroom before anyone could stop him.

"Argh, Moons! Don't be an arse! You always take forever in there!" yelled Padfoot moodily.

"Like I care this early in the morning." thought Remus flipping Sirius the bird over his shoulder.

Once the four of them were ready, _"Moony, I swear to Merlin, if you don't come out now, I'm blasting the door off its hinges!"_ and fully awake _"Just try it and I'll bite your head off, you sod!"_ they made their way to the Great Hall, where McGonagall gave them their schedules.

"Aw man, we got Potions first thing in the morning." groaned James.

"I don't." piped up Peter, mouth full of eggs.

"Shut up Wormtail." mumbled Prongs with squinted eyes that clearly did not intimidate Peter. The boy simply smirked and continued to stuff his face.

The Marauders parted ways and, as James, Sirius and he went down to the dungeons, Remus' heart started to fill with dread. He sincerely wished he could afford not attending Potions class, he was real rubbish at it. Unfortunately, the remedies he required to treat the injuries caused by his condition were not cheap nor easily made so he had no choice but to be competent enough to brew them himself. He simply hoped this year was not going as much as a disaster as his fifth. He was not entirely sure Slughorn had yet forgiven him for filling his classroom with toxic gases by the end of the previous semester.

The door to Slughorn's domain was in view when suddenly Sirius slammed his books out of his hands and sprinted to class, James in tow.

"That's for hogging all the hot water, you dimwit!"

Grumbling under his breath, Remus picked up his belongings and followed his friends, albeit at a more reasonable pace. As he entered the room, Remus' eyes travelled the length of it and quickly found his friends, who were sitting in the back looking quite pleased with themselves. Since this was advanced Potions the group was considerably smaller than the year before and was made up of all Houses safe from Hufflepuff. Only students whose score had been sufficient on their O.W.L.S were present. Frankly, the only reason Remus was standing there was because of Sirius' help. When he was not busy throwing random ingredients in other people's cauldrons, Sirius was a pretty decent potion brewer.

The second thing Remus noticed was that Lily had chosen a seat beside the Ravenclaw prefect instead of pairing up with Snape as she always did. Severus, on his part, was sullenly ignoring Adrian Nott who, in return, was staring at something on the opposite side of the room. Following Nott's line of vision, Remus was surprised to see Amelia Deauclair, sitting all by herself by a cauldron in the front row.

Frowning, Remus shook his head in confusion. He would have thought the Slytherins would fight among themselves for a chance at being Deauclair's potion partner. Oh well.

Remus scanned the rows in search of an empty seat and his heart stopped for a second. No. There was no way.

"For crying out loud..."

He made his way moodily to the only available seat remaining, all the while cursing his rotten luck.

"Excuse me. May I?" asked Remus with a grumpy tone. He didn't care if he came off as rude at this point.

Amelia slowly turned to him and sluggishly blinked as if waking up from a deep slumber. Then, she looked around and raised one eyebrow. "Well. It does not seem like either of us really have a say in this." she said, a little smirk appearing on her face.

Remus had barely had the time to sit when Professor Slughorn made his grand entrance, his large belly preceding him in the room. "Ladies! Gentlemen! Welcome, welcome to advanced potions! I hope you chose your partners well because they are going to remain the same through the whole year." exclaimed the teacher as he made a beeline for his desk. Then, facing his pupils, he ignored the look of horror that could be seen on some of his students' face, including Remus', and beamed. Then, he took attendance, stopping every so often to inquire about the students' summer and keep tabs on some of their famous relatives.

While Slughorn was on Rosalind Toke's case, Amelia turned to Remus. "So… Since we will have to work together for a couple of months, I would like to know. Tell me, are you any good at this? You are not going to make things blow up in my face, are you?" asked the girl. The humor in her eyes suggested she was teasing, obviously believing that, as Remus had made it through the O.W.L.s. examination, he was a decent potion maker. Unfortunately, this could not have been farther than the truth and Remus could not help but grimace. Upon seeing his defeated look, Amelia's face fell abruptly. She turned to stare at the blackboard. "Merlin save us all."

Slughorn finally made it to their table and the fat man, completely overlooking Remus, went straight for Amelia. The professor engaged her and made a show of puffing out his chest while they talked. Apparently Amelia's family was quite wealthy, like most purebloods were, and was living off a fortune built on the export of rare potion ingredients and high priced concoctions. Remus tuned Slughorn out like he usually did. It took nearly fifteen minutes before the man was satisfied with what he had learned on Amelia before he decided now was the time to start teaching something actually useful. Clapping his hands together, he went back to the front. "Before we start, are there any questions?"

Nott raised his hand. "Yes, Adrian. What is it boy?"

"Well, I would like to know. Is there really no possibility that we could change partners, Sir?"

Slughorn's eyes widened in surprise. Looking at Snape, who still sat by Nott's side and seemed frankly bored, the teacher frowned. "Well Adrian, do not get me wrong, but I think you are pretty well off with Severus. Mr. Snape really does have a gift when it comes to brewing."

Nott attempted to hide his displeasure but his annoyance still transpired in his tone. "This might be right Professor, but some of us do not have the chance to be paired off with someone who is not a walking hazard." seethed the dark-haired wizard shooting a dirty look in Remus' and Amelia's direction.

Well, it did not take a genius to guess which one of them was considered a failure.

_So that is what this is about_, thought Remus gritting his teeth. The werewolf did not know why it was that Amelia sat alone at the beginning of the class instead of being accompanied by some Slytherin or another, but apparently, the decision was not theirs.

A call came from the back of the room where Prongs and Padfoot stood. "Oi, watch it, Nott!"

"Boys! Boys! Let's calm down." cried Slughorn raising his hands. The teacher eyed Remus doubtfully for an instant before he turned to Amelia and smile a ten thousand watts smile. "I'm sure Miss Deauclair will be perfectly fine. Her family has been in the potions industry for decades, certainly she is more than capable of brewing even in the worst conditions by now. Maybe with her guidance, her partner will not cause any disasters this year." said Slughorn cheerfully, completely unaware of the beetroot shade Remus' face had taken at his words.

As soon as they knew the nature of the potion they were making that day, Remus got to his feet. "I'll get the ingredients." he said to Amelia without glance sent her way.

He made his way to the storage cabinet in a record time and was back to Amelia's side even faster. He could see Sirius and James trying to attract his attention out of the corner of his eyes, but, right now, he really did not want to talk about what had just happened. It was frustrating, humiliating at best and he wanted this class to be over already.

Amelia took care of the fire in silence, which was fine by him. A few minutes passed and Amelia started putting things in the cauldron. From time to time, she would ask him to prepare some ingredient or another. Remus' irritation was still pretty fresh and he had taken upon himself to pass his frustration through the slicing or the grinding of whatever it was Amelia needed next. He was beginning to chop the bloodroots rather viciously when he felt someone at his side. Looking up from his mutilated plant, he stared into Adrian Nott's infuriated face.

_Can't a guy catch a break?_ Remus thought. Breathing through his nose, he tried not to lose his cool. "Can I do something for you?"

Not sparing him a glance, Nott focused all of his attention on Amelia. "Miss Deauclair, I think it would be in your best interest to ask Professor Slughorn to swap partners." said the Slytherin in such an uptight manner that Remus actually wondered if the boy was not choking on something. Grasping the knife he was using to reduce his roots to dust, Moony almost wished Nott would really drown in his own spit. The nerve of this guy...

"This is getting incredibly tiresome Mr. Nott." replied Amelia, her annoyance made quite obvious. "Professor Slughorn has already made his decision and I was under the impression that it was final."

Maybe Nott did not sense the danger. Maybe he refused to acknowledge the warning. Either way, he made the bad decision of pushing the issue and be an overall nuisance. "You had no problem challenging Dumbledore's decision last night. I really do not see how this is different." he retorted haughtily.

Bent over his now nearly non-existent roots, Remus held his breath. He did not know much about Amelia Deauclair, but she clearly had one sharp tongue and quite a short temper. Urging her to do something she did not feel like doing was like poking a snake with a stick. Daring and quite stupid.

"You obviously know nothing about the art of negotiation." said the witch patronizingly. "I, for one, have known for a long time that if you are already trying to obtain something from an individual, you are more likely to get it if you stick to one demand and one only. Asking for too much guarantees failure."

"But…"

Turning his head slightly, Remus saw Amelia raise an eyebrow so high it disappeared behind her fringe. Nott immediately stopped spluttering. "Right now, what I want most is for Dumbledore to reconsider my sorting. I think I can handle a slightly difficult potion partner." she added derisively.

She then turned her back to him in dismissal. However, Nott seemed determined to act quite dense that day and with the arrogance of someone who is not used to be denied anything, he defied her once again. "You said you preferred working alone!"

Amelia swirled around so fast Remus had to duck to avoid getting a mouthful of hair. "I do prefer working alone and now I am not. Whose fault is that?" spat Amelia. For some reason Remus did not quite understand, the girl seemed a lot more worked up by this confrontation than by the one that had taken place in the Gryffindor Common Room. Her eyes were dark as she glared down at Nott who, for once, looked like he realized he has made a mistake.

"This class was supposed to have an uneven number of students! I could not possibly guess… He should not even have pass his O.W.L.s!" burst out Nott pointing to Remus.

Amelia continued as if he had not talked at all. "Besides my exact words were that I would rather avoid dealing with idiots, if I recall well."

"This is exactly my point."

Remus' hands started to tremble in anger.

Now... Remus rarely threw fits. Being blinded by rage was the closest he got to his werewolf nature without actually turning into his wolf counterpart, Moony. In the rare occasions when he really lost his temper, he had had a hard time keeping his inner monster in check. So he usually avoided getting frustrated to the point he wanted to punch a wall. Call him paranoid, but, whenever he felt his ire mounting, he was always a little worried people would catch a glimpse of the wolf's eyes deep down in his.

Remus generally ignored his animal instincts, no matter how useful they could be. He liked to able to think of himself as being as normal as any other wizard. He had a better sense of smell, so what? Moony was simply had part of him, an inconvenience he had to deal with on a daily basis. Moony was his furry little problem.

Nott was making it difficult to keep it together though. Remus was having a hard time not listening to Moony as he yelled at him to rip this guy's face off.

Amelia took her time before she said anything back, but when the answer came, it was devastating. "Mr. Nott." she smiled largely. "Are you assuming _you_ would be a better choice? I do not wish to offend you, but I have been brewing my whole life. For me, almost everyone qualifies as a danger when it comes to potions."

Nott paled. His jaw locked. "Miss, I have to insist." he fumed.

What was this moron's problem? Seriously?! This was not about protecting Amelia from Remus' inability to brew a potion anymore. This much was clear. This was about pride and resentment for last night's disastrous Sorting ceremony. Nott was acting like a petulant child whose lollipop had been stolen right under his nose. People like Nott did not take no as an answer. It simply was not in their nature. When confronted by such an obstacle, they became impatient and rude. Being snubbed by Amelia certainly did not help Nott's case. However, the tribulations of dolts like Adrian Nott were not Remus' problem and the boy had had enough. Before he could think about it, Remus finally straightened up and faced the obnoxious Slytherin. "Leave it alone already. This is getting really repetitive."

Not having been able to talk back to Amelia due to her status, Nott seemed relieved to have someone to lash out to. "No one asked you blood traitor!"

_Well, they are not really getting creative in their insults, are they?_ thought Remus.

"I think it would be best for you to regain your seat now." said the werewolf out loud. It was a miracle he had managed to keep his tone polite what with Moony screeching at him to claw the jerk's eyes out.

Nott sneered. "What? Are you going to make me? How? By asphyxiating me to death maybe?" He then had the audacity to laugh in his face. "Do us all a favor and get back to what you do best, shut up and try to blend in the background."

A shiver went down Remus' spine and he suddenly got goosebumps. "Why don't you get back to snogging your cousin in a broom closet, eh?" growled out Remus. He balled his fists and took a menacing step towards the pureblood whose hand dived into his robes.

Before the boy could grab his wand though, Amelia's cold voice rang out. "Nott, get out of my sight. You are embarrassing me."

Nott finally obeyed but not before looking daggers at Remus who replied in kind. As the Slytherin went back to his place, the werewolf went through a battle of wills. In the end, he decided hexing Nott in the back would only lead to a messy exchange of curses and that would only serve at getting him kicked out of class. Rightly so too. In presence of volatile potion ingredients, a duel would be extremely reckless. Maybe later then.

Returning his focus on his roots, he realised with a start that there was almost nothing to do with them in the state that they were in. As he stared at them grimly, trying to decide whether to throw them out or not, Remus felt Amelia's eyes on him. Really not in the mood for her snide remarks now, he snapped. "What?!"

Amelia scrutinized him for a moment before she grinned strangely. "I was about to ask you to if you planned on adding the frogs livers anytime soon but I was kind of apprehensive you would accuse me of incest as well."

Remus grunted. In all honesty, he was kind of ashamed. It had not been his best comeback for sure.

On the other hand, considering most purebloods were related and exclusively dated among themselves, there certainly was some truth in the insinuation. If you could call that an insinuation at all.

Deciding to leave it at that, Remus ignored Amelia and carried on with the making of the potion. He was determined to brew it correctly and prove all these self-entitled prats he was not the imbecile they all seemed to think he was. Unfortunately for him, the room was quickly filling with the different smells and fumes the various cauldrons emitted and it was making his mind fuzzy as always. Remus fought against the dizziness and the headache he could feel coming and made a physical effort to continue reading the instructions.

His progress was not helped by Amelia who, after the altercation with Nott, seemed content with watching him work all by himself. In fact, observing her discreetly, Remus could not even tell if the girl was really paying any attention to what was going on around her. Gone was the fierce witch from a few minutes ago. Amelia seemed lost in her own little world. She looked so out of it that Remus was startled to hear her address him.

"So I was thinking, if we are going to spend some time together in this classroom, it might be a good idea for me to know your name." said Amelia absently. Even as she directed her gaze at him, her eyes seemed slightly out of focus. Remus frowned, this was definitely strange.

"I am guessing it is not Peterson." she continued with a hint of a smile and looking a little bit more like herself.

Remus stared at her skeptically. After last night's fiasco, the insults and the exchanged glares? This had to be a trap. No one could go from looking down at someone with despise to acting cordial in so little time. Besides, the girl had this way of observing him that made Remus think this was not idle chit chat. Amelia Deauclair seemed like the kind of person that always thought one step ahead. Remus did not know what the witch expected to get out of him but he was not about to let her have her ways. He was tired of mind games.

After a minute, Amelia realised he was ignoring her and laughed quietly. "Really? The silent treatment? Well then. I guess I will have to come up with something myself." she said cheerfully.

At her words, the boy almost looked up to study her expression, his mind reeling. Was this still part of her taunting? It seemed so out of character.

To Remus, the giggle, the distrait tone, the vacant eyes were suspiciously starting to resemble the symptoms of a strong Confundus Charm. Glancing around frantically, all Remus saw was students pouring over their textbooks hysterically or stirring their potions with worried expressions. None of them seemed to be the caster of the spell. However, Amelia was obviously affected by some sort of magic, there was no other explanation for her spaced out behaviour.

Now that he knew what this was about, Remus felt a hint of worry. Being disoriented in a potion classroom was not safe. However the werewolf did not think that Amelia would appreciate him pointing a wand at her now, even if it was to disenchant her. For the meantime, Remus decided to simply keep an eye on the girl.

She stayed silent for a while; deep in thought, she stared into nothing mumbling things under her breath. Remus could tell she was getting deeper and deeper inside of her own head with every second that ticked away. It was gradual, but, near the end of the class, Remus could tell Amelia had gone deaf to the sounds that attacked her from every side of the room. The boy had never seen something quite like it. Even though he knew she was under a spell, he could not quite shake the eerie feeling he got when he heard her humming softly to herself.

"Sandy."

Jumping out of his skin at the sound of her voice, it took a while for Remus to comprehend what the girl had said. "What?"

Amelia directed her attention on a point near Remus' ear and grinned. "Sandy like the color of your hair." she explained gesturing vaguely to her own mane. "From now on, that will be your name."

"That's not my name." replied Remus dumbly.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Of course not, you refused to tell me." she mocked him.

Remus' temper flared again. Even in such a state, Amelia Deauclair still found a way to make him feel like an idiot. Some people were simply rotten.

Amelia must have sense his displeasure because, a moment later, she seemed to regain some of her composure and looked at him directly. "Listen, I have to be able to warn you if something goes awry. We are dealing with dangerous substances after all and I cannot possibly yell , 'hey you!' every time an explosion is imminent."

It pained Remus to concede anything to the likes of Amelia Deauclair, but he had to admit she had a point. "Lupin. My name's Lupin." he told her begrudgingly.

"No." retorted Amelia, after an afterthought. "It is too late. I much rather like Sandy."

Remus held back a groan of frustration. Nott and then this. What had he done to the heavens to deserve such a fate? He felt like wiping the stupid smile off her face. "That is ridiculous. You can't call me that." he grunted.

"Well I like it." she pouted. "Besides, people do not get to choose their own nickname. If they did, do you really think Barnabas the Barmy would have allowed to be humiliated by such a nickname as his?"

Was this girl channeling Padfoot or something? Remus could remember quite vividly Sirius mentioning something similar when the werewolf had first objected to him being called Moony. Pads, having been the one to find said nickname, had taken upon himself to convince his friend of the validity of his 'brilliant' idea.

"Whatever." Arguing with a bewitched girl was almost as futile as reasoning with Sirius. Remus gave up. Swallowing back his irritation, he turned back to the cauldron. Merlin, he was going to develop an ulcer by the end of this.

"As you say Sandy." answered Amelia with satisfaction.

Head pounding, Remus tried to concentrate on his potions book but the words all seemed to swarm across the page. Blinking rapidly, the wizard cursed his lycanthropy. His over-developed senses were overwhelmed by the colored puffs and the persistent stench that floated around the classroom.

He was about to add flowers of some sort in the concoction, when a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Stop. If you throw the belladonna in now, the mixture is going to get so abrasive that the cauldron will melt. Turn twelve times anti-clockwise first." Amelia still looked a little dazed, but her voice had lost some of its dreamy quality. "I will… I will take it from here."

She rose from her seat and took a few steps towards him. She clearly was still disoriented but it seemed like she fought against it. She grabbed a hold of the work bench and closed her eyes, frowning.

Hesitant, Remus leaned his head her way. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I've got this massive headache." she murmured.

Amelia did not look like she was aware of his presence anymore and she definitely had not noticed how her speech had suddenly became a lot more informal than usual. It was as if she was talking to herself once again. Concerned, Remus got closer.

"Shut up."

The mumble was almost inaudible, a mere whisper really, but little escaped Moony's sense of hearing. "What?" said Remus, disbelieving. He could not have heard right.

Amelia opened her eyes quickly and gaped at the werewolf as if she was surprised he was at her side. Remus knew from the way she gawked at him that Amelia Deauclair was back in the game. It was almost as if she had awaken from a long nap.

"Nothing."

"Five minutes left!" came Slughorn's booming voice from behind them.

Shaking her head, Amelia went to work; adding, stirring, crushing and tapping with her wand over the potion. In a blink of an eye, the brownish slush Remus had created had turned a beautiful turquoise and the girl was putting some in a vial for Slughorn to grade later on.

"Here Lupin. I really do not know why everyone thought you were such a buffoon. You did great mostly." said the blond haired girl, handing him their sample. "Maybe I will make it out of this class without losing any part of my anatomy after all."

Then, she stuffed all of her things in her bags and marched away. Clutching the little flask in his hand, Remus stared at her retreating form.

There was not much Remus understood about what had just transpired. One thing was certain though, something weird was going on with Amelia Deauclair. There was more to the girl than meet the eye. She was quite a mystery and it seemed like she liked it this way.

Call it animal instinct, but Remus got the feeling Amelia Deauclair was one of these Pandora's boxes that were better left unopened.

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think? <strong>

**On my part, I really like the Remus Lupin J.K Rowling came up with and I wish we could have seen more of him. This desperate need to fit in and this fear of failure, it's something I think a lot of people can relate to. **

**So yeah, three Marauders done, one more to go. I will do a chapter from Wormtail's point of view later on. I won't be easy as I don't really like him but there is some things I want to clarify about his personality so.. **

**Until next time! **


	6. Vipers nest

**Hey! So it took me two weeks to update this time. This have to be a new record. I don't know if I will be able to keep it up but I'm quite proud of myself. Cue patting myself on the shoulder. **

**Anyway, I should have mentioned this before but, I am aware the age of some of my characters do not match up with cannon. Sorry for that. However, just for the sake of the story let's just all assume for a moment that Bellatrix is only a year older than the Marauders. **

**Enough with me, enjoy the chapter! **

* * *

><p><strong>-6-<strong>

**Viper's Nest**

White noise.

It filled Amelia's ears, it blared in her mind until it was all she could think about. The hissing sound invaded her thoughts, mangling them and making it impossible for the girl to hold onto one of them for long. It never left her alone, it turned her deaf to the world evolving around her and tampered with her sleep patterns, therefore affecting her moods. Sometimes a high screech, similar to the whistle of a kettle, would tear her brains apart and it was all she could do not to hold her head into her hands and cry out in pain.

This was not the first time it happened. Pain was Amelia's long-time enemy. One that she thought she had left behind. The witch knew exactly what this was about, it had been unavoidable after all, but she was determined not to do anything about it until inactivity was no longer an option. She would not drag anyone else into this. She owed it to _him_.

For now, mistrust and fear were the only things that got her to focus, she was swimming in dangerous waters and needed all her wits to fight off the indecent number of people that were attempting to make her their own. Anxiety was a double-edged sword. If it did not overpower her, it kept her sufficiently on her toes to deal with the hungry wolves that strolled across Hogwarts' halls disguised as students.

Beauxbatons truly had been a nest of vipers but somehow things in Britain had taken a turn for the worst. It was not so much the noisy purebloods. Although she could have lived without their constant pestering, it had not came as a surprise. Amelia was used by now to nobles being under the illusion she owed it to them to live up to their standards and expectations.

The difference lay elsewhere. It was in the suspicious looks pupils casted at each other, it was in the troubled whispering in the Great Hall as morning post arrived day after day, it was in the way muggleborns stood out like sore thumbs in the crowd, walking briskly among the purebloods with their head held high and their hands near their wand at all time.

Rumours in France had been true. A dark menace hovered over the British magical community.

Distrust of muggleborns and muggles were recurrent in the wizarding society. All around Europe, Purebloods families talked of the slow integration of children born to non-magical folks with disgust and a hint of apprehension. However, in Britain, this mounting alarm was taken to a whole new level.

Amelia and her mother had been invited to various Pureblood's households numerous times during the summer. Ladies of high societies never missed a chance to flaunt their wealth and compare it to newcomers. Large gatherings of women, all jewelled up and dressed to the nines, met up regularly in tearooms, gossiping and plotting friends' downfall. Being who she was, Amelia could barely make it to tea before she needed to get some fresh air. Any air was good enough as long as she did not have to share it with these bootlicking, backstabbing harpies.

Therefore Amelia had made it a habit of hers to eclipse herself not long after having suffered through the farce of exchanging pleasantries, bowing and smiling till her cheeks hurt. Then, with all the arrogance that came with being a girl from a well-heeled family, she wandered from room to room, picking up books from libraries, giving cheek to haughty looking portraits, sitting on the masters' bed, shuffling through letters and correspondences.

There were not many advantages to being the only heiress of the noblest pureblood dynasty still alive. It was more of a burden than anything else. However, she could not deny that it gave her the right to act as freely and with as much effrontery as she wished most of the time. Whatever she felt like doing she could, and that, with impunity.

It was during one of her little escapades that Amelia had come to realise just how much prejudice against muggles had escaladed on the British territory.

* * *

><p>Amelia ran a hand over the smooth wooden surface of the writing desk that stood at the far end of the study room she had let herself in. The girl could not quite remember the name of her current hostess, or her appearance even, but she had to admit that, for once, this one had taste. Of all the manors and summer houses she had visited in the previous weeks, this one was by far her favorite. Purebloods usually opted for extravagance without being able to draw the line between impressive and tacky.<p>

Maybe it had been the wall-length bookcase or the light that filtered past the veil that stood in front of the French doors leading to the back garden, but something in this room had appealed to Amelia. After checking quickly around her to ensure that the hallway was empty and that no one had seen her leave the ballroom, the witch had pushed past the doors and entered the study, noticing absentmindedly another entrance on her right. Assuming it lead to a bedroom, Amelia did not pay more attention to it.

She relished the silence for a moment. The absence of nagging, snide whispering and overall bragging was a blessing in itself and she was determined to make the most of it. She was slowly making her way to the book shelves when a loud crack resounded behind her, startling her.

Quickly turning around, Amelia faced the source of the disturbance. Two men had appeared out of thin air, but something was obviously wrong; one of them was hunched over, putting all of his weight on his companion who seemed to struggle to stay upright. Taking advantage of the fact their backs were turned, Amelia made a fast retreat and hid behind the door that was the closest to her.

Finding herself standing in a dark bedroom as she had predicted, Amelia dithered slightly, unsure of what to do. Under other circumstances the girl would not have minded being found in such a predicament, it was not the first time she had been making herself at home in houses in which she was only a guest and she had enough gall to ease her way out of such an indiscretion. However her guts were telling her she had just walked in on the only thing she was not supposed to witness. Looking around frantically, she came to the conclusion there was not any other exit. She would have to wait it out. Getting closer to the door, she opened it a crack and peered through.

The man had cleared the writing desk of books and quills and had laid his injured friend on top. Bent over him, he seemed to be talking to him softly while petting his hair as one would do for a sick child. The wounded man then turned his head in Amelia's direction and was seized by a coughing fit, each spasms sending shivers through his whole body. Something red and thick left his mouth and crashed on the floor.

It was then that Amelia smelled it. The metallic, throat clamping smell of blood. Leaning on the wooden door for support, the young lady closed her eyes and tried to swallow down the lump that blocked her airways. Now was not the time to get sick all over the floor. She balled her hands into trembling fists and tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in her stomach.

"Fanny!"

A popping noise was heard and a snivelling creature with bat-like ears apparated in the center of the room, responding to its master's call.

"Master Rabastan has asked for Fanny?"

"Yes. Go and get Miss Bellatrix immediately. Tell her it is urgent." the man's voice was cold but Amelia could detect the underlying fear.

Unfortunately, the house elf had caught sight of the man on the table and seemed too shocked to move. Losing his patience, Rabastan closed the distance between Fanny and him in two strides and gave the elf a swift kick that sent the poor thing flying across the room with a yelp of pain. The servant met the wall with a muffled thud and got miserably back on its feet.

"Hurry up, will you! Do you not see he is hurting!" roared Rabastan, face distorted by anger. Then, not minding the creature any longer, he returned to his comrade's side. "Do not worry Rodolphus, Bella will know what to do. She is the best healer there is."

Well, it made sense now. If she remembered well, Amelia could recall getting informed of Rodolphus Lestrange's and Bellatrix Black's engagement. She must have been in Lestrange Manor.

It seemed like forever before Bellatrix came strolling in, her robes flowing behind her and her usual aura of malice surrounding her like a cloak. It did not take long before she made sense of the scene in front of her. To Amelia's surprise, her face showed some concern when she identified the harmed man. Crossing the room in a heartbeat, she had her wand out and had it waving over her fiancé in no time. Taking a step back, Rabastan observed her work, looking quite distraught.

"What happened?" the tone was hard and made Rabastan, who was absorbed in the contemplation of his brother, jump out of his skin.

"I…" stuttered the wizard.

Looking up from Rodolphus' wounds, Bellatrix pinned him with an unpitying glare. "If you are to be an useless lump, Rabastan, you might as well leave."

Squaring his shoulders, the man seemed to recover a bit of his self-control. "The Prewett twins. One of them, I do not know which one, got Roldolphus with some kind of cutting curse. Nasty pieces of work these two are."

Bellatrix made a non-committal sound and went back to the healing process. Silence fell upon them, interrupted from time to time by Rodolphus' weak moans or Bellatrix' occasional mumbling. The ticking of the clock resting on the wall echoed all around the room and Amelia hold onto it desperately as if it could help her get her heart, flustering like a bird trapped in a cage, under control.

After a while, Bellatrix leaned back and exhaled calmly. Rabastan who had sunk into a chair by his brother's head shot to his feet. "What is going on?"

"He will make it. All there is to do now is let him sleep. Carry him to his bedroom."

Eyes widening, Amelia realized two seconds before it was too late what was about to happen. Searching for a hiding place, she caught sight of the canopy bed. Although she was painfully aware her behaviour was incredibly unladylike and left her with no escape route was she to be discovered, Amelia did the only thing she could think of at this point.

She dropped to her hands and knees and, as Rabastan entered, wand raised as to keep his brother hovering in the air, the girl rolled under the bed. She had not done this in years, not ever since she used to play hide and seek with Tecky, her house elf. Her outfit did not make the crawling easy and for a terrifying moment, Amelia thought Bellatrix, who followed suit to Rabastan, would catch a glimpse of her gown sticking out from her hideout.

She hold her breath and waited for the outburst, but nothing of the sort happened. The mattress squeaked over her when Rodolphus was finally laid down on it and a second later, overpriced leather boots dirtied by mud and blood as well as tips of black high heels shoes could be seen at the edge of the bed. The witch and wizard seemed content to simply watch Rodolphus sleep in silence for a while until Bellatrix spoke.

"Were you successful?" whispered Bellatrix barely masking her trepidation.

"Oh yes. The Dark Lord will be pleased. Lucius is a genius. Attacking in broad daylight completely took them by surprise. By the time they got there, the roof had collapsed and we had cut off all exits."

"It would have been stupid to keep leading the raids at dusk. Dumbledore's minions were fools to believe we would allow ourselves to become that predictable." said the dark haired witch with condescension.

"They were shaken up all right." replied Rabastan with grim satisfaction. "Although that could have been the sight of the orphanage going up in flames too."

Amelia's hand flew to her mouth to muffle the gasp that threatened to escape her. What was this madness?

Bellatrix chuckled quietly. "The Prophet will have trouble hushing this one for sure."

"The whole Ministry will have trouble keeping this under wraps. Our little bonfire attracted quite the attention, what with the smell of burning flesh and the screams. Filthy little pigs gave me a headache by squealing the way they did." added Rabastan in mock irritation.

Trembling from head to toes, Amelia fought against the dry heaves that assaulted her. Choking on a sob, the witch forced herself to control her breathing, being found out now would be the death of her.

"Well, I am guessing they will obliviate the muggle witnesses and find a cover story to explain the building's destruction, but the warning has been sent to Dumbledore. No one will dare ignore our cause now, nor will they belittle our actions any longer." stated Bellatrix in a no non-sense tone.

Rabastan stayed silent, but Amelia could imagine him nodding in agreement. The two of them stood there for some more time before Bellatrix told her future brother-in-law they were better let Rodolphus get some rest. Amelia remained hidden long after their departure, anxious about being caught red handed were they to come back unexpectedly. When she felt confident enough that slipping out from her hiding place was safe, she bolted from the room and, after making sure her appearance did not give away her whereabouts for the previous hour, she strode into the ballroom with as much cockiness as she could muster. Going straight for her mother, she faked some weakness or another and after some convincing, they were back to their manor in London.

It took her three days before she found the courage to step out of her bedroom once again.

* * *

><p>The burning of the muggle orphanage had been all over the news by morning. For Amelia, who until then knew nothing about death eaters and their aspirations, it had been a wakeup call.<p>

The hate of muggles was no longer faceless. It breathed, it walked and it sowed death everywhere it went, showing no mercy, sparing no soul.

It had a name. One that people on the streets only dared to whisper. Some out of fear. Others out of respect.

At first, Amelia thought the murders and destruction were the works of a lunatic. A maniac with enough charisma to drag vulnerable souls into his descent into violence. The girl soon had to face reality however. The Dark Lord was on warpath and he left no one indifferent.

This kind of evil did not allow people to stay on the side-lines.

It poisoned conversations at family diners, it crawled into people's hearts and it tore friends apart. It even seeped in between the stones of Hogwarts' walls, causing fight and duels in the hallways.

More often than not, innocents unfortunately were caught in the crossfire.

"Watch out!"

A bright purple light shot over Amelia, missing her head by a millimeter, tearing through the air with a sizzling sound. Shards of stones rained on her, a whole section of the wall behind her blowing up and sending debris flying in all directions as the curse hit it. The witch raised her arms above her brow to protect her eyes from harm.

In seconds, the corridor was dense with magic, hexes flying left and right, lighting up the small space with a thousand colors. All around her cries and screams filled the air, girls screeching in distress, older students shouting out to their friends while others, unlucky, yelled out in pain as they got inadvertently hit by some stray jinxes.

Bodies pressed into each other as teenagers tried to escape the center of the mayhem. A shoulder collided with Amelia's chest and the witch was roughly shoved, stumbling backwards until she hit the wall. Beside her, Lily, who had offered to walk her to the transfiguration classroom, received the same treatment and got the wind knocked out of her. Blinking in confusion, the redhead shook her head and swore softly as chaos unfolded in front of her.

"What in the world..."

Before any of the girls could react, a boy with sandy hair spurted out of the mess of limbs, hand gripping firmly the shoulder of what seemed to be a shell-shocked first year.

"Remus." exclaimed Lily, grabbing a hold the tiny girl the young wizard had presumably saved from being squashed to death. "What's going on?"

Remus was obviously on high alert, eyes shifting quickly from side to side and wand at the ready. "I don't really know. It happened really fast." the teen said urgently without meeting their gazes. "What I do know is that there's a hell of a lot of firsties in there, Lily. Some of the spells that have been casted are ugly too. Wouldn't be surprised if there was dark magic involved."

Lily's expression became grim and she started rolling up her sleeves. "Well then, we have to put an end to this before someone gets hurt. Stun or tie up anyone you see holding a wand and shouting curses. Anyone, Remus." emphasized the girl staring at Lupin with a pointed look. The 'even your friends' was left unsaid but, Amelia knew by the boy's uneasy expression that the message had gotten through.

As Remus threw himself into the fray once again, Lily knelt in front of the eleven year old girl and told her to stay on the sides until she came back for her. The first year's head bobbed up and down and, as her lip began to quiver, Amelia realized with a start this was the same kid she had saved from the lake's cold waters a few days back.

Lily wasted no more time and disappeared as quickly as Remus had done. Putting a hand on the younger girl's frail frame, Amelia pushed her behind her and positioned herself to hid the child from view. She swallowed nervously and tried to calm the trembling of her hands.

All these flashes of lights and these overwhelming noises were doing her no good. Her heartbeats were becoming frantic and she could feel her head being squeezed in a vice, the familiar buzzing overcoming her train of thoughts as she desperately tried to find a way out of this catastrophe.

She could not afford to lose her senses. Amelia struggled to stay on her feet as the floor seemed to shift under her. Blinking, she tried to see through the dust that floated about, occasionally glowing and surrounding objects as well as people with a ghostly halo when a spell passed by. The atmosphere was crackling with magic, the girl could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. It crawled on Amelia's skin, caressing it almost longingly.

Suddenly, the witch felt it, the unmistakeable wave of burning fire that sprang from a point buried deep in her stomach and that travelled all the way up to her heart at lightning speed, spreading out and pulsing through her veins till it reached her fingertips. Her extremities brusquely felt like ice and a bead of sweat ran down the length of her neck.

_No._ thought Amelia in a panic. _This cannot be._

It was like her magical core had lain dormant all though summer, intentionally becoming comatose as faith left her along with her willpower. Now enveloped by supernatural power, intense and rampant, her body responded to it in the only way it knew how. Quite violently.

Too troubled to notice the hex that came hurtling towards her, Amelia reacted too late, the force of the curse lifting her feet from the ground and projecting her in the air, away from the teenage girl she was supposed to protect. Landing roughly on her back, Amelia's head snapped back and hit the stone floor hard.

The world spun and the witch forgot to breathe for a second. Her hearing became dulled, sounds seemingly getting distant as if she sank into deep waters. Down and down she went, silence growing more and more oppressive until it was deafening and she could not bear it any longer. Her pulse was the only noise resounding in her skull, each heartbeat echoing in her head and destabilizing her.

An anger that was not quite her own nestled into Amelia's heart. Right in this moment, her magic was like a monster and the monster wanted out. Immediately.

The surge of power was terrifying. Amelia knew what would happen if she allowed the dam to break; there would be no going back. Taking deep shuddering breaths, Amelia tried to gain control over the sparks of involuntary magic that coursed through her body. Raising weakly her head and resting heavily on her elbows, the girl surveyed her surroundings.

Belligerents seemed to be moving in slow motion and Amelia idly wondered just how serious her concussion was. The duels were still ongoing and panic was on everybody's face. Then, someone fell few feet away from her and lay, unconscious. Amelia's breath caught in her throat and she tasted bile.

"_Amelia do something!"_

His voice boomed inside her head, urgent and desperate. He was never one to let people get hurt in front of him. The exact opposite of her.

"_I... I can't."_

"_What do you mean, you can't?! Are you kidding me? You could stop this madness in seconds!"_

Amelia nearly moaned. He did not understand. He did not get it. Could he not see her whole hands cramping and twitching with suppressed magic? If she let it go now, it would be a carnage.

"_Bloody hell, can't you see I won't be able to restrain myself?!"_ she practically yelled in her head.

"_This is no ordinary school fight, Amelia. You know that as well as I do. If you don't do something now, there will be casualties."_

"_If __I__ intervene now, then there __will be__ casualties."_

Her head was about to split in two and the white noise came back with a vengeance. It would not be long before she became incoherent.

"_God, Amelia. What have they done to you? You used to be past that. We worked on it together; you're able to do this."_

Amelia's ire tasted like iron. He could not be this naive, could he? This level of obliviousness was impossible. How dare he sound so disappointed? The pity in his tone made Amelia's blood boil.

"_What have they done? WHAT have they done? This is not a matter of what they have done to me! You're not by my side anymore. That's what this is about. You went and left me, and now I can't use my magic without being afraid of blowing the whole place up!"_

It was his turn to let his fury known. Although Amelia was aware her friend had quite a short fuse and was accustomed to his outbursts, the witch still winced at his harsh words.

"_Stop acting like a wimp and get your shit together, Deauclair!"_

Gritting her teeth, she decided to humor him. However, as she raised her wand to indulge him, the crowd parted and an empty space appeared in her range of vision, clear of students battling and of innocent onlookers. Seizing her chance, Amelia brought down her arm and twirled her wand.

The magic left her arm with a bang and the amount of power getting torn from her so abruptly caused pain to go shooting up her forearm.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, all of a sudden, an invisible force sent people soaring through the air, away from the spot she had sent her spell to. Bodies stayed suspended in midair for a second before they crashed on the cold hard ground with grunts. Groans were then heard all around her as students tried to comprehend what had just occurred.

A strangled yell broke the new founded peace and as Amelia whirled around to face the commotion, she saw Sirius Black get unsteadily to his feet and point his wand at some unknown boy sprawled near him, his features marred with rage. Before he could do any damage though, a figure rose from beside him and slammed him into the wall.

"Enough!" shouted James Potter, blood trickling down his forehead.

Black's eyes turned to stare at his best friend, his expression twisting in betrayal. "Let go of me!" he snarled shoving Potter in the chest.

The bespectacled boy was onto him though and spoke to him in low tones, clearly attempting to knock some sense into the wizard. Unbeknownst to James, the teen Sirius had been menacing and whom Amelia vaguely recognized as one of the Slytherin prefects, aimed his wand at his back.

The attack was nipped in the bud though as the Slytherin quickly found himself on the receiving end of a wand himself. Startled, the greasy-haired boy looked up to an infuriated Lily Evans.

"I would not think of it, if I were you." hissed the redhead.

Hurt swiftly appeared on the boy's face before it was replaced by anger. "They started it." he snarled as if it justified his actions.

Until now people had been too engrossed by the confrontation between James and Sirius to notice anything else, but that soon changed and, in seconds, all eyes were riveted on Lily's hard expression. Potter seemed shocked, although if it was either due to Evans coming to his rescue or the fact the help had been needed in the first place was not certain.

"I have no doubt in that. However, it doesn't justify the use of some of the curses I witnessed you casting, Snape." replied Lily with cold fury.

The two teenagers glared at each other as if having a silent and devastating argument until the wizard's face broke into a hateful sneer. "Playing favorites now, I see." he spat with venom.

"Hardly."

The showdown was interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall whose screeches of rage soon filled the crowded hallway. In minutes, those who needed medical attention were sent to Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, with the promise that those involved in the fight would face the consequences of their actions as soon as they were adequately patched up.

Amelia, who had obediently followed a group of students heading to the medical ward, made herself scarce before they reached the doors of the Madam Pomfrey's sanctuary. Her headache had somewhat diminished in intensity the moment she had released some of her magic and her state had come back to its relative normalcy, which was honestly not that great. It would have to do for now though.

The witch was determined to avoid the infirmary for as long as possible. It would not do anyone any good if she went.

Amelia was on the third floor, on her way to the Gryffindor tower, and looking for a staircase that would eventually lead her to the upper floors when a gargoyle on her right suddenly stepped aside. Taken by surprise, the girl took a few steps back.

Professor Dumbledore's purple robes came into view and were soon followed by the man himself as he walked down the steps of the staircase the stone statue had previously kept hidden.

"Ah, Miss Deauclair. I was just about to seek you out. How convenient." the old man stated with a fatherly smile.

"_Can't help but agree with him on that."_

"_Shut up, I'm still mad at you."_

"_Merlin's balls, Amelia. Get over it."_

"What is it you wanted with me, Headmaster?" said Amelia shaking her head to dismiss the internal conversation.

"Well, you see my dear, your mother just spoke to me through my personal floo. She seemed quite distressed. Apparently she had not been informed of your sorting in the Gryffindor house until this morning." The last sentence was phrased as a question and Amelia stared defiantly into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.

"I see. One of my comrades must have taken the liberty of writing to my parents without my knowing. I will have to get in touch with my mother to enlighten her on where things stand." answered Amelia, seething.

There would be blood.

"Oh there is no need, child. It seems as if your mother was so deeply concerned with what was going on that she took matters into her own hands. She is currently waiting for us in my office." the aging Headmaster told her, motioning for her to follow him up the stairs.

"_Well, crap."_

"_My thoughts exactly."_

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><p><strong>So... Cliffhanger! Sorry for those who can't stand them but I happen to LOVE leaving people guessing. <strong>

**What did you think of Amelia now? This was my first attempt at an action-filled sequence so I hope it was believable! **

**Thank you once again for the reviews. They are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated! **


	7. Blood ties

**Long time no see! I would usually apologize for making you wait this long but I won't this time. Life has been kind of rough for me the last couple of weeks and I really needed to take care of a few things before I felt like writing again. **

**This being said, this chapter was quite hard to come up with. Part of the difficulty was that it is slightly darker than what I did before and I wanted it to come out right. I changed the rating to M as you can see. The main reason is that there is mention of animal abuse in this chapter. Nothing too graphic but I understand that certain people feel uncomfortable with that so: for those that may concern, skip the part above the demarcation line. **

**Again thank you for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated and taken in consideration. **

**PS: I found myself two betas! Thank you to furaiz and lilting glamour for helping me improving this story considerably! **

**On with the story!**

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><p>-7-<p>

Blood Ties

It was one of those summer nights when no breath of wind came to bring relief to the inhabitants of central London. The thunderstorm that was due earlier in the day was still brewing and the heavens had yet to open up, making the atmosphere stuffy with humidity and the sheets, in between which the citizens tossed and turned restlessly, damp with sweat.

Ribbons of moonlight poured through the opened window of the bedroom, painting every surface it touched with its bluish tint. At this godforsaken hour, everything stood still, from the boy, buried in its fortress of duvets and blankets, to the figures on the posters that had been plastered on the walls. How the boy had manage to drift off to sleep in this nearly unbearable heat was a mystery, but his slow and peaceful breathing was proof enough that he had somehow found his way into Morpheus' arms.

From the other side of the room, the door that led to the hallway opened with a creak before a boy cautiously slipped his head inside. The child, five years old at most, was obviously upset, but he remained unmoving for a few seconds before he gathered enough courage to bolt through the bedroom, the sound of little feet padding across the wooden floor barely noticeable. The kid halted inches from the boy's bed and proceeded to stare at him, as if hoping the intensity of his gaze would be sufficient to wake him.

When nothing of the sort happened, the boy seemed to hesitate, his lips began to tremble and a single tear glistered on his round cheek. He raised a finger and poked the sleeper in the face in a pathetic attempt at tearing him away from his dreams. When that did not work, desperation began to show in the kid's eyes and a cry escaped his rosy lips. Getting bolder, the child started shaking the other boy's shoulder.

"Siri! Siri, you have to wake up!" The boy's voice had become high-pitched with panic.

A grumble was heard from the mass of pillows. The child, clearly not satisfied by the incoherent answer, probed the older boy once more and grimaced, brows and nose scrunching up in misery. "She's doing it again…" whispered the kid, fear apparent.

"Whazzit Reg?" came the muffled mumble.

The boy was full on bawling by now, struggling to breathe in between the sobs that racked his little body. "She's doing it again Siri. She's going to kill it."

At these words, Sirius sat straight up out of bed and jumped to his feet in no time. Stumbling slightly, he made his way to the door with Reg trailing after him. On the landing, he almost crashed into a small figure that barely reached his waist and that had obviously been waiting for him. The tiny girl had long blond hair that shone silver in the moonlight. Like Reg, she had been weeping and her little face was wet with tears. Trembling like a leaf, she looked up at the older boy.

"Siri you have to stop her please!" pleaded the girl. Sniffing, she added in defeat "She just received it this morning. Father said it was a gift for her ninth birthday. She swore to me she would not hurt it. She promised!"

Bending down, Sirius opened his arms, hugging the child before he clumsily hoisted her up and settled her against his hip. The girl automatically buried her head in the hollow of his neck and the boy felt her tears on his skin.

"It's all going to be alright Cissy." he told her, trying to be soothing. Turning to face Reg, he motioned the boy to follow him down the stairs. "Reg, I will take you two back to your room. I want you to stay there and watch over Narcissa, ok? I'll come and see you when it's over."

They ran down the stairs as fast as Reg was able to jump from one step to another, which was a long process as the steps were pretty far in between for a child his age. Suddenly, a thought seemed to cross Sirius' mind and he froze midstep. "Regulus, how did you find out what was going on?" Concern appeared on his face. "I mean, did you see what she was doing or something?"

"No. I was on my way up from the kitchen and I saw her drag it by his leash to Father's study. She did not look in her right state." The boy turned a worried face towards him. "I did what I was supposed to do, right? You told me to come right to you if it happened again. I was only gone to get myself a glass of water, I swear!"

Relief washed over the taller kid and his shoulders sagged as panic left him. "No, you did great Reg. You were perfect."

Regulus smiled at the praise for a second before the seriousness of the situation came back to him with force. They arrived in front of his bedroom and Sirius put Narcissa back on the ground. Opening the door, he gestured to his cousin and his brother to go inside, encouraging them with a shaky smile.

He was about to turn around when a little hand grabbed the back of his pyjamas. Looking into the frightened face of Regulus, he kneeled in front of him and ruffled his dark hair. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. I have done this before, yeah?" Noticing how his words did not seem to comfort Regulus, he let out a sigh. "Hey, this is Bellatrix we are talking about, Reggie. She may act a bit weird now but at the end of the day, she is still the same old Bella. She'll listen to me, she always does."

He stood up and pushed Regulus towards the threshold of his bedroom. Once the door had closed on his brother, his smile slipped away and he stared grimly into the shadows bathing the staircase leading to the lower floors. Shaking his head a little, he headed down with heavy feet.

Soon the boy found himself standing in front of a dark door. He was about to enter, but he hesitated, his hand hovering over the snake-like handle before he dropped it to his side. Breathing deeply, Sirius pressed his forehead against the wood and screwed his eyes shut. Then, without waiting any longer, he flung the door open.

Immediately, sounds that had been muffled by the charms set over the study assaulted him and it was all he could do not to turn back. Having been fearfully staring at the floor as he passed the entrance, Sirius forced himself to raise his head. What met his sight made his blood run cold.

A young girl stood in the center of the room. Her nightgown was so white that it shone in the darkness, making the boy's eyes hurt with its brightness. The child had a wand in her hand and she was pointing it at a shivering form lying at her feet. The puppy, because that is what it was, was in evident pain, hollering and whining pitifully as it thrashed on the floor, foam coming out of its mouth.

Sirius did not know what was worse, the convulsing dog, its paws tearing through the air and its eyes rolled into the back of its skull, or the insane ecstasy that contorted his cousin's beautiful face. The girl was breathing fast and was oblivious to the world. She did not move when Sirius burst into the room and her eyes never left the tortured animal nor did they lose the weird glint that seemed to animate them.

It took some time for Sirius to get over the initial shock, but once he managed to shake off the overwhelming horror, adrenaline urged him into action. Throwing himself in Bellatrix' direction, he tried to snatch the wand away from her. Immediately, she put up a fight, kicking, screaming and pulling at his hair.

"Bella, stop! Bella, listen to me. Stop!" he cried as she scratched his face. She was so far gone that she did not seem to recognize him. In desperation, Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her as hard as he could. The girl staggered backwards and fell on her behind. The wand escaped her grip and landed a few feet from her, rolling out of her reach.

Her head snapped towards him, eyes finding his. She glared. "Why?! Why should I stop?" she snarled, hate dripping from her tone. Her hair stood in all directions in a crazed disarray.

The boy recoiled and remained silent for a moment, apparently at lost for words. Looking as if he was going to be sick, he stared at the sneer that disfigured her usually full lips. "Why? Because it's wrong, Bella." said Sirius feebly.

"Father does not seem to think so. He bought it for me! He told me to do whatever I pleased with it. Anything, you hear me?!" The girl screeched the last part, eyes bulging out of their sockets. "This is the third one he has given me. Why would he do so if he did not approve of the way I dispose of his gifts?"

Even in the poor lighting, one could see color draining from Sirius' face as he shook his head in denial. "This is a living being, Bella. Certainly it makes a difference." whispered the boy weakly after swallowing nervously. "It is not some new toy you can afford to break."

"A gift is a gift." stated Bellatrix blankly.

The dark-haired boy looked away from her as if he could not bear to lay his eyes on her no more. His jaw clenched and, when he turned his gaze towards her once again, his face had hardened, all trace of sorrow gone and replaced by disdain.

"You really don't get it, you idiot. He wants you to control these urges. You are letting your magic take over. Good witches master their power, they don't let it rule over them." spat Sirius, towering over her still sprawled form.

"Stop pretending you are doing this," Sirius paused and gestured to the dog, "because of some whim. You do it because you can't refrain yourself from doing it. You don't want this, Bella! You simply can't help yourself. It's pathetic."

The girl looked like she had been slapped across the face. She frowned and directed her attention to her bare feet, biting down on her lip to keep from pouting.

"Look at it, Bella. Look at what you have done." The girl shook her head stubbornly, but Sirius was having none of it. In one swift movement, he had her back on her feet and was practically dragging her to where the animal lay. She casted a quick glance to the puppy and, seeing it unmoving, still in death, she covered her face with both her hands as if suddenly understanding the scope of her actions. Soon, big, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I am sorry. Merlin, Sirius, I am sorry. You have to believe me. I did not mean to. I was so angry and my head hurt so so much and… I'm sorry! I was not thinking straight. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." hiccupped the girl punctuating each sob with a plea for forgiveness. Her knees gave out under her and she collapsed on the ground.

Sirius' tough act crumbled and he slowly sat beside the devastated girl, accepting her hug as she crawled into his arms, crying and apologizing over and over again. He rubbed his eyes with his fist roughly and sniffed. As minutes passed, Bellatrix calmed down and, eventually, her breathing became slightly less erratic.

"It's alright, Bells. Come on." murmured Sirius, awkwardly helping the young witch to her feet. "Go and get cleaned up. I will take care of this."

"What are you going to do with it?" asked Bellatrix, avoiding looking directly at the corpse.

"I'll bury it in the backyard." replied the boy thickly.

The girl made a noncommittal sound and took a few tentative steps towards the door before turning around. "I will do better next time, Siri." said Bellatrix, eyes pleading with him to believe her words.

Unable to meet her gaze, the boy nodded. "I know you will, Bells."

He kneeled near the dog and turn his back on her in a mean to put an end to the conversation. Fixing a point ahead of him, he listened to her receding footsteps and the creaking of the floor under her weight. When the sound of the wood moaning ceased, he finally allowed his shoulders to relax.

However, he had not been as alone as he first thought he was because her voice reached his ears one last time. "It's too bad. I really liked that one. It was a nice dog." sighed Bellatrix softly.

Sirius could not repress the shiver that ran down his back. He waited for a long time after this and, once he was sure she had left, he stood up and forced himself to set his eyes on the dead puppy.

In the bluish light of the moon, the boy had never seemed as small. Head down and shoulders hunched, Sirius crossed his arms above his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from heartbreak. It was a futile effort however and one could almost hear when the tiny crack made its way through Sirius' already fragile heart, fracturing even more so. The boy did not cry. His entire frame shook and he pulled at his hair in frustration.

Then, from the other side of the house, a cry tore through the silence. "Sirius!"

The panic stricken child turned his face towards the threshold, senses on high alert. Had he been dreaming?

"Sirius!"

The second time, the boy did not hesitate and bolted. Almost breaking his neck as he threw himself into the stairs, Sirius stumbled into the dark hallway, shoulders bumping into the walls. He did not care if he woke the entire household; never had he heard so much fear in his brother's voice.

"Siri! SIRIUS! SIRIUS!" The calls kept on coming and the boy's terror was mounting with each and every single one of them. For the first time of the night, tears sprang to Sirius' eyes and he held back a moan.

"I'm coming Reg!"

Skidding to a halt in front of Regulus' bedroom, he tried to turn the handle and, upon finding the door locked, he banged savagely on it. "Reg! Open up! It's me! Open the door!"

"Sirius! Sirius!"

Taking a shuddering breath, the young boy took a step back and tried breaking down the door, ramming his shoulder against it. It still refused to let him through. Getting desperate, his hand formed a fist and he slammed it on the wooden surface once again. On the other side, his brother was still wailing. A sob finally bubbled to the surface and escaped Sirius' lips. He kicked the door on last time.

"Sirius! Sirius! Sirius, wake up!"

The boy's head snapped upward. What?

"Sirius! SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

Sirius woke abruptly with someone standing over him. The boy sat up with a start and clutched the front of the shirt of the intruder, his brother's cries of anguish still ringing in his ears. As his eyes focused, he realised he was nearly choking James who was looking at him with alarm. Instantly letting go of his friend, Sirius let himself fall back into his pillow with a groan.

This was going to be a shitty day.

Neither boys spoke after this, and even though Sirius was aware James was watching over him through the troubled eyes of a dysfunctional mother hen, the wizard did not acknowledge his friend's presence and focused on regulating his breathing. He was fine, a nightmare had never killed anyone. James eventually walked away with a sigh and then attempted to drag the covers away from a feebly protesting Remus.

Sirius threw the sheets aside and got up, struggling with his wobbly legs. He knew by now there was no point in staying in bed any longer. Sleep evaded him and he was not feeling up to mulling over his thoughts. He always had a miserable time trying to shake off the sentiments that these dreams brought on. They were frequent too. He really hated the way his subconscious consistently reminded him how things used to be and how he had let his brother down in so many ways.

In his sleep, his memories and his fears seemed to mangle in quite a mysterious fashion and half of the time, he would have trouble distinguishing the scenarios his mind came up with from what had really happened.

In this case, Sirius really wished he could push his terrifying dream aside as another one of his nightmare, but, except for the part when Regulus had started screaming his head off, everything had really taken place and it was obviously not leaving the boy in peace.

Sirius had known since the tender age of five years old that his cousin was not quite in the right state of mind. It had not taken a genius to figure this one out.

Since Bellatrix', Andromeda's and Narcissa's mother had died when giving birth to the latter, Sirius' uncle had to raise them on his own and, as the active businessman he was, he did not always have the time to watch over his daughters. When it happened, the Black sisters would be shipped to Orion's and Walburga's household. In other words, Sirius and his cousins had basically grew up together.

Everything had been fine until Andromeda had gone off to Hogwarts. Then, without the good influence her sister had had on her, Bellatrix' character began to stray.

The girl had never seemed to have any consideration of others, except for a few chosen ones, and concepts as compassion and empathy escaped her completely. She had not always been cruel though. However, she continuously complained about headaches that gripped her skull every so often, causing her to become catatonic for hours straight, and, once she had discovered she found relief in others' pain, things had gone downhill.

One day, Sirius had found Bellatrix kneeling in the backyard, prostrated over something he could not see. Thinking she was having another episode and that the pain in her head was too high for her to move, he had run to her side to help her out. What he had discovered though was not a girl in agony. Bellatrix had somehow found and captured a little grey mouse while wandering in the garden and, as Sirius came to stand by her, she was squeezing the creature so hard in her fist that the animal, in the hope of escaping her, desperately clawed at her hand, making profound slashes in the flesh. Before the boy could do anything, Bellatrix had given one final deathly squeeze and the sound of cracking bones had reached his ears. Disgusted, Sirius had made Bellatrix tossed the cadaver in the bushes and silently led her inside so she could wash her hands.

At first, Sirius thought it had been one spout of morbid curiosity not unlike the ones that gripped little children who found themselves burning ants with a magnifying glass.

It had not been the case.

Since that day, Sirius had to stop Bellatrix from harming any living thing she could lay her hands on. No matter how many times he told her it was amoral and wrong, she did not seem to understand. It was then that Sirius had come to the conclusion that his cousin's actions had nothing to do with will, it was compulsive.

It had only gotten worse when her first signs of magic emerged.

Bellatrix' magic was explosive. She had no control over it and her powers were greatly influenced by the emotions she felt. Whenever she was in distress, magic would come pouring out of her and she lost what little inhibition she had. Sometimes she would steal her father's, her uncle's or her aunt's wand and she would disappear for hours, only to come back with her hands stained with blood. Figuratively and often literally.

Since both houses she lived in were protected with wards that kept the Ministry from detecting the magic that was unleashed within its walls, Bellatrix did not have to worry about getting sent a warning in link with her practice of underage magic.

Her own father, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the way his daughter used her powers. Cygnus Black III did not care about Bellatrix' sanity, but was on the contrary pleased with the amount of potential she showed. No matter what Sirius said, Bellatrix' father did not wish for his offspring to reign in her magical outbursts. He encouraged them, making sure to provide her with new victims every now and then.

Of course, Sirius could not say this to his fragile minded cousin. As long as the two of them stayed under the same roof, the dog animagus had managed to keep Bella relatively grounded. The girl might not have been able to repress her urges, but she let Sirius admonished her every time she did and showed some remorse afterwards.

The young wizard could have given up on her a long time ago. However, he did not do so and he kept on trying to get her back on track. Sirius could barely recalled what Bellatrix had been like before her own head had begun to play tricks on her. All he remembered was a smile as bright as the sun and a laugh, like bells in the wind that warmed him from within. For the sake of the friendship they once had and the blood ties that bonded them, he had refused to let her down and to allow the Bellatrix from his souvenirs to fade away.

However, there was nothing he could do when she left for Hogwarts a year before him. When she had come back that summer, Sirius realised she, herself, had let her old self float away. With no one to act as her conscience, Bellatrix had become as unpredictable as a loose cannon, prompt to anger and quick to lash out at others with her wicked tongue.

Against all reasons, he had entertained the thought things would get back to normal once he went to school and was back by her side. It had been foolish. Bellatrix had wanted nothing to do with him after his sorting in Gryffindor. Of all the hardships he had to endure that year, this had been the hardest blow.

He did not care that she thought he had betrayed his family by walking out on them this summer. She had been the one to turn her back on him first.

It did not matter anymore. Sirius was way past the point of caring. He was totally over it. Totally. Nowadays, Bellatrix was not even worth half of the girl she had once been, the kind of girl that had enough guts to stand up to his mother and take up his defense what seemed like a lifetime ago.

She had since long gotten over the qualms that kept her from hurting people around her. Plunging one's gaze into the bottomless pits that were her eyes was quite a disturbing experience.

Angry with himself for letting his memories affect him quite so, Sirius huffed and went in search of socks that were not mismatched, kicking around the mess of clothes that flowed out of his trunk and invaded the area surrounding his bed.

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><p>Breakfast was a quick and silent affair. Sirius moodily pushed his food around his plate as James sullenly forced himself to give the dog animagus space. Remus, on the other hand, was staring in the depths of his pumpkin juice as if wondering if he might be able to drown himself in it with enough determination. Peter ate in silence, too observant not to know that trying to engage any of the marauders in mindless blabber would be an unwelcomed and futile attempt.<p>

Eventually the group got up and dragged their feet out of the Great Hall. They had almost reached the Transfiguration classroom when Sirius suddenly halted. Head turned towards a group of students clad in green and silver, Padfoot told his friends to continue without him and made to walk in direction of Slytherin boys that had caught his attention. He waved James' concerns away as the teen voiced them and strode confidently though the throng of children running to their classes until he was standing next to a young boy with shiny brown hair that were barely long enough to hide his earlobes and tickle the back of his neck.

"Regulus. A word?"

Guarded eyes turned to him. Almost immediately distrust appeared on his younger brother's face and a look of deep annoyance, one that Walburga Black had taught him well, settled on his features. "I do not have anything to tell you. All has already been said." snapped Regulus.

A look from Sirius sufficed to make the other boys scatter. Padfoot swallowed nervously. He had known Regulus had been angry with him, positively full of rancor, but if it came down to that he did not mind step on his pride for once. Regulus was worth grovelling for. "Well, I have something I want you to know. I have been writing you letters all through summer but they all came back to me unopened so..."

"Well this should have clue you in, right?" replied Regulus with more spite than he obviously intended. Battling to regain his composure, the younger boy settled for a glare. "I do not wish to hear whatever you have to say to give yourself good conscience."

"Reg, come on. Don't be like that." stressed Sirius with a hint of desperation.

"Is there a problem?"

Voice as oily as his hair, Severus Snape made his undesirable presence known. Seething, Sirius struggled not to punch the boy right in his overlarge nose. Snape was everything the dog animagus had wished to leave behind as he walked out the door of 12 Grimmauld Place, down to the hard cold eyes, the shifty ways and the sordid fascination for the dark arts.

It was one thing to be force-fed knowledge about pernicious curses and maledictions like his cousins and he had been through their childhood, it was another to actually love the dark arts and to talk about them the way Snape did, almost caressingly, as a man would talk of his lover's curves.

Snape was the perfect little Slytherin, and Sirius hated him for it.

"Why don't you go sniffing around somewhere else Snivellus?" spat Padfoot.

"I was not talking to you Black, but to your brother. How typical that you would think that everything orbits around your person." sneered Snape, speaking in a pompous way that made it obvious he was trying to copy the studied drawl so many Purebloods expressed themselves with.

Before Sirius retorted, Regulus raised a hand to placate the both of them. "Everything is fine Severus. Sirius and I were done." said Regulus coldly. Then, to his brother's dismay, he made to turn his back on him.

Sirius' hands started to shake. The resentment he had felt during the holidays after being ignored by a boy he had spent his entire life protecting from the wrath of Walburga Black and that he had forced himself to bury along with the pain that came with the realisation he was not good enough for his own mother, remerged. "So what? You are friends with an idiot like Snivellus now? Really Reg, you can do better than that." burst out Sirius, trying to convey the warning he had wanted his brother to hear all summer.

Don't listen to them. Don't let yourself become mother's puppet. Stay clear from Bellatrix, she will scar you until you're as ugly as her.

Regulus suddenly whirled around. "You. You have no idea what is best for me so please refrain from offering unwanted advices or critics on how I deal with my life." exclaimed Regulus. For once, some of his pain leaked through his mask and Sirius realised how much his departure had affected his brother emotionally. You left me behind. You left me alone with them, his eyes seemed to be screaming.

He was gone before Sirius had the sense of grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back.

"Looks like he finally realised how worthless you are Black. Took him long enough, don't you think?" Snape said with undisguised glee.

Having forgotten the Slytherin was there, Sirius blinked a couple of times before his eyes zeroed in on the bat-like boy. "Talking about worthless Snape, have you tried talking things through with Evans yet or is she still hell bent on ignoring you?" Sirius paused to let his words sink in. "I don't think I have anything to teach you about letting people down, scum."

Snape colored but did not lose his cool. A cunning glint shone in his eyes and a smirk appeared on his lips. "How long will it be before your friends realise they are better off without you as well?"

It was a trap of course. Sirius knew that. However, may it be because of the aftermath of the nightmare, the bitter taste of the whole Deauclair disaster had left in his mouth or the shock of Regulus' final rejection, Sirius still fell for it.

In seconds, his wand was out, but Snape, having been prepared for his harsh reaction, beat him to it and Sirius was immediately struck by a beam of purple light that gave him the impression of having been slugged in the stomach.

Things got a little out of hand after this.

Sirius barely noticed the mayhem around him. He was vaguely aware of the screams and the minor explosions caused by the spells that erupted from dozens of different directions, but, other than that, he focused all of his attention on Snape and on how to destroy that stinking face of his. James came to fight alongside him at some point and the stag animagus saved him from quite a few nasty hexes that were hurled his way.

As chaos ensued, an odd sense of calmness gripped Sirius. He had been so tired of sitting there and simply taking it. Finally he was doing something. He fought with renewed vigour until the scuffle was stopped abruptly and his feet left the ground due to some unknown force. He landed on his shoulder and gritted his teeth when pain signals erupted in his brain, making him see stars. Still, the sight of Snape lying at a short distance made his train of thoughts fuzzy with anger. Stumbling into a vertical position, Sirius was about to curse the bastard into a billion of little pieces when someone rammed him into the wall.

"Enough!" shouted the wizard with so much anger that Sirius stilled.

Never in his life had Padfoot been so stunned. James Potter was against him. Seemed like Snape was not so off the mark after all. As his heart sank, his defense mechanisms kicked in and he pushed the teen away from him with all his might.

James was unrelenting though and refused to get off his case. "Bloody hell, mate. This has to stop before someone gets killed. Look around you for Merlin's sake."

Confronted by the disappointment of his best friend, who was always filled with a will to protect others, Sirius was forced to look away. Never had he thought someday people would need to be shielded from him. Looking past James' shoulder, Sirius had to concede the boy was right: the hallway they were standing in resembled a battlefield. Students were scattered all over the floor: some bleeding from cuts on their arms or face, others holding their heads and all of them sharing the same look of fear.

Sirius' eyes landed on Amelia as she struggled to stand upright on one elbow while nursing her other arm and keeping it near her chest as if it had sustained a blow.

"Alright." whispered Padfoot, his shoulders sagging.

"Yeah?" asked James, looking uncertain.

Lily intervention allowed Sirius to avoid having to answer. After witnessing Snape getting handed his balls on a plate by said redhead and getting rendered completely deaf by a hysterical McGonagall, Sirius followed numbly a group of first years to the infirmary, having successfully managed to dodge his friends and disappear in the crowd when they came looking for him.

He was not feeling up to explaining his actions to any of them, not even James. What he needed right now what some way to blow some steam off. Taking advantage of the fact teachers were concerned with the wellbeing of those among the younger students that had been severely battered during the brawl and did not pay much attention to him, Sirius left the ranks, making his way to the outside grounds.

He walked briskly, almost running, in direction of the Quidditch pitch and once he got there, he strode to the broom shed and picked the lock with the magical penknife his uncle Alphard had sent him for Christmas a few years back. After he had broken into the shed, he got the chest containing the balls and retrieved his beater's bat. Reaching the middle of the pitch, Sirius kicked the lid open and undid the straps keeping the bludger in place. Camped firmly on his feet, the boy raised the bat at shoulder's height and, when the ball shot up and started looking for a target, he swung it wildly. The shock wave that ran up his arms as the bat collided with the ball almost made the boy drop the club, but this was the kind of pain he was accustomed to and he welcomed it with relief.

The bludger was back quickly and Sirius fended it off once more. Cracks like thunder filled the stadium as Sirius hit the ball over and over again, his head slowly emptying as he had known it would. He embraced the numbness and continued the exercise until his arms were trembling so hard he could barely hold the bat in the air long enough to whack the bludger away as it came buzzing back to him.

Knowing pushing himself past his limits would only serve to land him in the infirmary with a head injury, he put away the quidditch equipment begrudgingly. He was on his way back to the castle when his stomach growled loudly. Frowning down at his midriff, Sirius raised an eyebrow. He had not realize how long he had been out there; lunch was probably getting served. The boy decided to avoid the Great Hall and to head to the kitchens; the minute McGonagall would set her eyes on him she would put him in detention for the rest of his days for his implication in the duel and he was not feeling up to getting ranted at.

As Sirius strolled through the hallways, the dog animagus could not help but notice the edginess that lingered, the corridors were practically deserted and those who remained walked briskly, looking over their shoulders every so often. Finally, the painting hiding the entrance of the kitchens came into view and Sirius was about to tickle the pear when the panel was suddenly wrenched open. The boy had to leap out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the nose by the door and almost fell to the ground in surprise.

What happened next had him rooted on the spot and he was nearly trampled by the girl that came coming his way. The witch, long red hair flowing behind her, stormed out of the room, plumes of steam coming from the pots on the fires following her out. Her gaze barely grazed him and in no time she had barrelled past him, green eyes blazing with anger.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Evans!" Sirius called after her.

"Go to hell, Black." replied Lily without turning around.

Her response had Sirius chuckling under his breath. She was definitely a keeper that one. No wonder Prongs was so infatuated with the girl.

With all honesty, he had to admit that Lily Evans usually had a kind nature. There was only one person on earth that managed to bring out the fieriest side of her, only one.

Well, if Evans was in that state, it could only mean one thing. Sirius' smirk slipped from his face and he stared at the kitchen's entrance with apprehension. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed it vigorously before he manned up and went through the door. As he had expected, a head of messy black hair could be seen among the sea of bustling house elves running around dressed in white pillowcases. Threading through the throng of little creatures that all squealed in delight at the sight of him, Sirius weaved his way to James and sat by his side.

Staring right ahead, Padfoot waited for James to lift his face from the table on which he had laid his head. When his arrival did not suffice to induce a reaction on Prongs' part, Sirius grew fidgety as dread filled him. "Are you still mad at me?" he asked, trying to come off as casual as possible. There was not many people whose opinion mattered to Sirius, but James was one of them.

James did not move however and for an instant, Sirius thought he was about to get treated with the cold shoulder. Prongs' voice reached his ears eventually, slightly muffled due to the fact his friend's face was still pressed against the wooden table. "I don't know, should I be?"

Sirius bit his lower lip. He knew James for long enough to recognize this as a trick question. Whether Prongs would forgive him or not depended on his answer. "Well, I guess you should," sighed Padfoot, "but I really wish you weren't."

As James started to straighten up, Sirius found himself incapable of looking at him any longer and started picking at his nails. Somehow all the disappointments and heartbreaks his mother supposedly had to live through because of him seemed like nothing compared to the idea of letting James down.

He could feel his friends' eyes on him and his cheeks burned in embarrassment. Of all the people on earth, James had to be the one to make him blush. His face was red with shame and there wasn't anything more to it, but Sirius could not help but feel self-conscious. Sirius Black blushing! If Wormtail were to hear about this, he would have a field day.

"There were a lot of innocent bystanders in that hallway. Lots of first years too. One of them could have been severely hurt. Hell! Some of them did land in the infirmary." said James severely. In these moments, the bespectacled boy reminded Sirius strongly of Charlus Potter. No one could guilt tripped him more than Mr. Potter. James was doing a fine job himself though.

Padfoot tried to talk but his throat was so dry that no sound came out. He coughed and nodded in response which seemed to be enough for the other boy as he continued. "Moony, Wormtail and me… We will always stand by your side, you know that, but this... I refuse to watch you harm yourself and people around you." Prongs was getting winded and sounded more and more frantic. Sirius knew without a glance that James had messed up his hair in frustration and that it now stood in complete chaos on top of his head. "And I won't do things that goes against my morals either." exclaimed Prongs, "Damn it, Padfoot look at me!"

Gulping, Sirius raised his eyes. James was staring at him with a mixture of anger and worry, but his jaw was set and he looked determined, like he always did. Suddenly, Prongs' face fell and betrayed the pain he had been hiding behind his long tirade. "Mate, you promised you wouldn't do anything stupid."

It was true. He made a promise to James during the summer, a few nights after he had ran away from home that he would not let anyone get under his skin when they got back to school. Guess it was easier said than done. However, Sirius knew that James attached great importance to oaths. Prongs easily trusted his friends, assuming that, because he made a point of living up to his promises, others would do the same. It was kind of foolish in a way.

For someone like Sirius, who had been brought up to believe no one was trustworthy, it was almost risible, but Padfoot respected deeply James and should have known that his actions would hurt his friend. "I didn't think." mumbled Sirius.

"Of course you didn't. You never do." snapped James. Realising how harsh he was being, Prongs took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Taking deep breaths, he attempted to cool down.

He did not apologize though. Well, it was only fair, Sirius hadn't either.

Not until now anyway. "I'm sorry, alright."

James stared at him blankly for a second and Sirius made a point of looking into his eyes. Prongs did not seem to think he was convincing enough though and grimaced. "You've got to mean these things, Pads. I'm not McGonagall. You can't expected me to believe you're sincere when you apologize only to placate me."

Sirius was about to tear his hair right off his head. "Look, I won't tell you I regret hexing Snape, ok?" He simply would not. Snape was an ass and had what was coming for him. Sirius raised his hand when James opened his mouth to reply, brows furrowed. "You were right though. I did let him rile me up when I shouldn't have. And I'm sorry for that."

James huffed. "I swear, I heard everything you said Prongs. It's just…" Sirius sighed wearily, "Keeping my calm in this situation, it's harder than I thought it would be. This isn't all about me anymore. I can't stand to see Reg hanging around the likes of Snape and Bellatrix. They're rotten and they're going to bring him down with them."

Sirius had not forgotten the threats his cousin had made at the ball in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix had set her claws into Regulus and she would not let go that easily. The teen was not stupid. He was almost certain by now that Bellatrix was part of You-know-who's followers, those who dubbed themselves the Death Eaters.

Sirius balled his fists and bit his tongue. He was trembling with anger. How could be possibly sit by and watch as his brother was being dragged into a mess that should not be his own? "I feel so powerless, you know? It's like it's happening all over again, like last time. He's slipping right through my fingers."

From the corner of his eyes, Padfoot saw James run a hand over his face before burying it in his hair and leaning on his palms, hiding his face from view. "In the end, it's really his choice." said Prongs softly.

Sirius' throat suddenly felt sore. "It's different. Reg is not sick in the head like Bellatrix is. It doesn't have to be that way." The dog animagus nearly choked on the last words and coughed a couple of times to hide his discomfort. Having to let go of Bella had been hard enough. He didn't think he would be strong enough to lose Regulus as well.

Of course, their relationship had been strained for a couple of years now, what with his mother hating his guts and expecting his brother to keep his distance with him. However, Sirius could not be able to live with himself if he allowed Reg to throw his life away for a cause he knew his brother did not entirely believe in.

Sirius felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. Turning his head, he looked into Prongs' resigned eyes. "Let's skive. I don't feel like I can listen to anything that will come out of Sprout's mouth anyway. I need a drink and hot chocolate simply isn't going to cut it. How about we go to Hogsmeade?" asked James, raising from his seat.

The wizard was halfway through the door when Sirius finally got to his feet and went after him, his spirits lifting considerably. Grinning, he followed James out and started walking by his side. Probably feeling the waves of satisfied contentment radiating from Padfoot, James casted him a quick glance and frowned. "You're insufferable, you know that? I can't seem to stay angry at you more than ten minutes."

"What can I say? It's my natural charm." replied Sirius proudly. Prongs only snorted in response.

They had almost reached the one-eyed witch statue when Sirius finally remembered. "Oi! Are you going to tell me what happened with Evans? You would have thought she would not approach you with a ten-foot pole after the deal with Snape last year."

James' face darkened abruptly and he avoided Sirius' eyes, opting to focus on casting the charm over the statue to make it move. Prongs entered the passageway and Sirius followed suit, intrigued. After a moment, James spoke in a dulled tone that sounded nothing like himself. "I think I'm going to give up on her, Pads."

Sirius' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That bad, eh? What did she say?"

"It wasn't something she said really... It's just... I'm getting tired I guess."

Now, Padfoot was definitely worried. James had never been the kind of person that gave up. He refused to. His years of pursuing Lily without success were proof enough of that fact. "Mate, don't take this the wrong way but… What the hell? I mean, I know you've been trying for so long, but it never seemed to bother you before. What brought this on Prongs?" Sirius wished the secret passage was better lit. In this darkness, it was almost impossible to discern his friend's expression.

"Something happened today. I don't know, it changed my way of viewing things I guess." mumbled James. Sirius waited for him to explain what had taken place but, after a moment of silent debate, James seemed to think better of it. "Well, I thought I was a good judge of character until now but I'm not so sure anymore."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

James halted. "Padfoot, I always have been so convinced Evans was the girl for me. There was no doubt in my mind." Prongs made a frustrated sound and kicked a stone that lay near his foot. He waited for the noise of the rock skipping on the hard ground to cease before carrying on with his thoughts. "What if I was wrong? What if we weren't made for each other at all? Then I would have been harassing some poor girl for nothing way too long."

Prongs exhaled loudly. "Besides, there's way too much going on these days for me to chase after someone that wants nothing to do with me." James suddenly started walking again as if to put some distance between him and his thoughts. "Things are changing Pads! There's a war brewing out there. We gotta get ready for what's waiting for us around the corner. There's no time for schoolboy crushes anymore." called the wizard from over his shoulder.

James' words weighed on Sirius' shoulders. A shiver ran down his back and the boy felt as if, by voicing his thoughts, Prongs had set something in motion. Jogging to reach James' side, Padfoot tried to shake off the foreboding that got hold of his heart.

"How about we convince Rosemerta to serve us a firewhiskey first?" joked Sirius.

As Prongs' laughter filled the passageway, Sirius smiled. Maybe his shitty day would not turn out so bad after all.

The rest could wait.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you like it. I was actually quite excited at the idea of sharing my vision of Bellatrix. I make a point of depicting all of my characters (with the exception of Voldemort maybe) with more complexity than simply describing them as being good or evil. Bellatrix is no different. It is clear in my mind that she is mentally disturbed and that it affects her personality. Clue the animal abuse. I mean... She did torture Neville's parents to insanity. <strong>

**Tell me what you thought! Hope the part with Sirius and James was not too sappy. Sorry, I couldn't resist. **


	8. Life of the underdog

**And so I'm back! I know, it's been insanely long since my last update, but what can I say? School always comes first. **

**Once again I indulged myself maybe a little too much and, as you will see this chapter so long it's almost indecent. **

**A big thanks once again to furaiz for looking through this for me. My beta did an awesome job!**

**I live on reviews so don't hesitate and tell me what you think of the story so far. Shout out to anonymous readers! I appreciate you silent dedication :) **

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><p>-8-<p>

Small, dirty hands sticking out of an overlarge coat; thin, pale legs and unkempt hair.

The first time Lily Evans set her eyes on Severus Snape, all she knew about him were the rumors that were circulating around the neighborhood. Rumors that were being spread by the action-seeking, misery-hungry and pathetic housewives that plagued the girl's street. Women talked about an uncared for child living on Spinner's end, often seen throwing rocks at nearby cats and jumping in front of passing by cars for kicks.

Spinner's end was situated in the shabby part of Cokeworth; commonly regarded by the inhabitants of the town as a thorn in their side. People living down there were rumored to produce more offspring than they could afford and to neglect their children's needs in order to buy themselves threads of happiness from shady salesmen lurking in dark corners.

It would have been easy to discard Severus as another one of these troubled kids, with their ill manners and their angst filled eyes. The boy had certainly looked the part.

However, Lily was no stranger to the devastating impact of such gossip and always took good care not to take everything bored homemakers came up with at face value.

Although there was some kind of roughness to Severus that came along with his belief he would forever be disregarded as an underdog, Lily, looking past his social awkwardness, had found a great friend in him.

This relationship of theirs was unusual and unexpected to say the least, but it is to say that two people sharing the same dream tend to find their way into each other's life.

For both kids, whose lifestyle in the muggle suburb had left them with the feeling of being inadequate, Hogwarts seemed like a safe haven. They would finally find a place where they belong.

Of course, Lily and Sev had been brought down to earth brutally.

It seemed like people always found ways to make you feel inferior if you let them the chance. Magic did not prevent prejudices to grow inside strangers' heart: it only made haters most likely to jinx you at any given opportunity.

The magical world was hostile in many ways and in this regard, Lily had truly been let down. However, she was not the kind of girl to be disheartened by so little and she reasoned that, as long as she had Severus by her side, she would not let other's misconceptions affect her enthusiasm for the exciting path that now stretched before her feet.

Never could she have foresaw that, one day, Snape would put his own survival above everything else; above her.

Because that was it. That was all there was to it. There could not be another explanation.

The name calling, the dodgy curses, the snarky words: everything. Lily knew Severus. He was nothing like that.

The boy was ending up being the perfect Slytherin after all. It didn't matter that he knew better than to think muggleborns were untalented magic thieves or that muggles, muggles like Lily's mother, were nothing like the undefined and unsophisticated beasts the Pureblood made them out to be. All that really mattered was that his new friends thought he bought into the crap that spewed from their mouth.

And it hurt. It hurt knowing she was not deemed important enough to be worth fighting for.

Lily was an independent witch: strong and fierce. She liked to believe she needed no knight in shiny armor. However, in her darkest moments, the girl was starting to question whether she was cursed with bad company.

Lily did not have that much friends to begin with. Friends you can truly rely on; the ones that stand by you no matter what, were hard to find. On the rare occasions when the redhead thought she had found her right match, she had been harshly let down.

First her sister and then...

Lily had been incredibly indulgent. The other Gryffindor girls had not understood her patience. They had not been able to wrap their head around as to why Lily would play the part of the dumb girl stuck in an abusive relationship.

Lily's mother often said she was too kind for her own good. Petunia, on the other hand, often said Lily was an attention seeker that liked people to think she cared.

None of them got it at all. Severus needed her. How could the girl abandon someone whose home wasn't a home at all?

* * *

><p>Nine years old Lily Evans tossed and turned in her bed unable to find sleep, eyes scrunched up and lips pinched in displeasure. The girl was mad.<p>

Severus had failed for what seemed like the _hundred billionth time_ to show up to their daily come together in the meadow beside the riverbank. This was not like him. No matter how he whined about how far their meeting spot was or how often Petunia seemed to come up unannounced, he was always waiting for Lily by the time she got there.

He had been acting weirdly lately, fidgety and more skittish than usual. Every time Lily had called him out on his behaviour, Severus had always eluded her questions, saying that things had become slightly awkward between his parents and that it made him nervous.

"It's a grown up issue." he kept telling her. "They will figure it out eventually."

Lily did not have much experience with good liars. Petunia was a particularly bad one. Were she to try lying, her eyes would dart from side to side and her whole body would become incredibly stiff. However, the redhead girl's intuition was usually spot on and something told her Severus' problems went beyond some spat between his mother and father.

Lily huffed and stared at the ceiling as if it had personally insulted her. Why wouldn't Severus simply tell her what was really going on? Did he not trust her to keep his secrets for herself?

The girl squeezed her eyes shut to try and prevent fear to overcome her. Ever since she had befriended the dark boy, Lily couldn't help but worry. What if Severus lost interest in her somehow? After all, Martha Stinton had stopped talking to her after she had shown her how she could make the hairs of her dolls stand on ends at her birthday party two years ago.

Lily frowned. Severus would never be scared of her like that. He told her himself that he was a wizard and that she was a witch!

But what if...

Tink!

Lily jumped in surprise and muffled the scream that threatened to come out of her mouth and wake the whole house up. Eyes opened wide, she stood still, waiting for the noise to be heard again.

Tink! Tink! Tink!

Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the window and pushed it open. Peering into the darkness, she tried to see through the shadows in which the back garden bathed. A rustling noise attracted her attention to the bushes near the wooden fence she had helped her father paint white the Saturday before last.

"Who's there?" she whispered trying to sound fearless.

"Lily?" came a voice within the obscurity.

"Severus?" called back the girl with uncertainty.

"Thanks Merlin, I thought for a moment that I had gotten the wrong window." A dark form stumbled out of the bushes. The streetlights from the alley illuminated the boy from behind, making it impossible for Lily to discern his features, but there was no doubt as to exactly who was standing under her window in the middle of the night. Severus took a few steps in her direction but did not venture out of the shadows.

"Have you just been throwing rocks in my window?" hissed Lily.

Severus visibly recoiled. "Did you not tell me that's what muggles do to get their friends to come out at night to speak to them?"

"Yes, I also told you that only happened in those teenage romance movies full of goop Petunia likes to watch. Not in real life!"

"Yes, well. I'm sure any muggle boys would wake their friends like that if they all slept as tight as you! I've been trying to get you to open the window for ages." he spluttered. Even in this pitch black darkness, Lily could guess the blush that was slowly spreading on Severus' cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" asked Lily brusquely. She was trying to stay angry at him and he was making it hard to do so.

Severus seemed to hesitate. Kicking a football Lily had left lying around that afternoon he cleared his throat. "I came to apologize."

"What for?" replied Lily snootily, trying to come off as haughty as her sister could sometimes.

This was an attempt at getting him to spill the beans and he was perfectly aware of that.

Let him sweat.

She felt the heat of Sev's glare on her. "I'm sorry I could not make it today."

"Or yesterday. Or the day before or even the day before that!" burst out Lily, too mad to contain herself any longer. "You have been avoiding me!" she accused him.

"I did not mean to, I swear!" squeaked Severus raising his hands in the air.

"Then why?" spat Lily.

"It's been hectic at home. You know how it is!"

A cough came from the bedroom next to the girl's and both children froze. Once the danger had passed, Lily turned her head in Severus' direction. "You always say that!" she said in low tones.

"Well it's true. Father have been coming home late at night the past few weeks. Mother and him have been at it for days now. They won't stop yelling at each other." muttered the boy, rubbing his neck.

Goosebumps appeared on Lily's arms and a sense of dread she did not quite understood overtook her. "You're lying. You're not telling me the whole truth."

Severus' head snapped up. "No I'm not! I don't know why I came here if it's for you to accuse me of being a liar. You know what? I won't be coming to the meadow anytime soon. Don't expect me there in the next days." snarled Severus in anger. Without another word, he turned on the spot and plunged back in the darkness.

"What? No!"

Tearing herself from the window sill, Lily barrelled across the room, grabbing a flashlight on her way out. Hurrying outside, the girl ran towards the fence door and pushed it opened. She turned on the torch and lit the passageway trying to figure out in which direction Severus had gone. As she turned her face to the right, she saw a well-worn sneaker disappeared in between the trees of the woody area that led to the river. Severus had probably went through there to cross the distance that separated his house from hers. Lily ignored the shivers that racked her small frame and, with no consideration for the rocks that were hurting her bared feet, she went after her friend.

"Severus! Sev! Wait for me!"

The pursuit was short-lived. Lily may not have look like much but she was a really fast runner. She was behind Severus in an instant. However, the boy seemed determined not to let her catch him and doubled his effort to lose her. Realizing he could not outrun her, he decided to put his cleverness into use. Dodging trees left and right in an attempt to confuse Lily, he tried to make her lose sight of him long enough to find a place to hide in the woods until she got tired of looking for him.

This was foolish of him of course. Lily was stubborn. Finally catching up with him, she took her opportunity. Yelling out a weird war cry, the redhead launched herself at him and tackled the boy to the ground. The flashlight flew out of her hand and landed a few feet away from them, lighting the scene. Thinking she had won, Lily threw her head back and laughed, convinced Severus would follow suit. Surely he wasn't still mad after all this excitement. She certainly wasn't.

However, Severus did not seemed inclined to enjoy the moment with her. In fact, the boy had started wriggling under her, desperately trying to get the girl straddling him off his legs.

"Let go Lily! Let go! Just let me go please!" he cried, covering his face with his arms.

Surprised by the panic she sensed in him, Lily looked at her friend in confusion. "Calm down Sev, it's me."

"Just let me go home Lily. Please. Just let me go." the boy whimpered.

Scared by this sudden turnaround, Lily sat back and let him get up quietly. "God, Sev. Why don't you just tell me what this is about?" she asked him softly.

Slowly, Severus' hand dropped from either side of his face. In the dim yellow light, splashes of black and purple were exposed.

Lily could not helped but gasp. "Christ, what happened to you?"

* * *

><p>"I don't know."<p>

A small voice shook Lily out of her reverie. Blinking rapidly, she stared at the girl sitting in front of her on one of the beds of the now bustling infirmary. "What?"

The teen rolled her eyes at her. "Err, you asked me what had happened to me and I just answered. I don't know. The spell came out of nowhere. It was yellow and it hurt like hell. Can I go now?"

Lily had to resist hexing the brat all over again. "Actually, no, you can't. You have to be checked over by Madam Pomfrey one last time and then you're good to go."

The girl huffed in annoyance and Lily forced a smile, battling with herself not to lose her cool. She definitely did not remember acting as obnoxiously at this age. She bit her tongue to hold in the snappy remark that bubbled in her head. She had been doing that a lot lately, whether it was at home or at school did not change much.

Eyes filled with disdain all looked the same and seemed to blend in together after a while. She'd been given the cold shoulder by more people than she could bare these days. Sister, ex-best friend, pureblood bigots put aside, Lily struggled to find someone that would not send the stink eye her way. She wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to remain impassive. She was going to develop an ulcer at this rate. So much for trying to be the bigger person.

Madam Pomfrey's voice reached Lily's ears and the young witch nearly jumped out of her skin. After fighting good-naturedly with the nurse to try and convince the matron to let her stay and help a bit more, the redhead had to concede victory to the older woman and made her way out of the infirmary.

Lily then hesitated and started walking. What to do? Professor McGonagall had cancelled her class due to the duel and there were still a few hours to wait until Lily's next lesson.

Tending to the injured students had given Lily a sense of purpose. Left with nothing but the adrenaline that pumped into her veins since the beginning of this disaster, the girl found herself quite disconcerted and a bit desperate for something to occupy her mind with. She did not want to rehash the event of the morning, nor did she want to obsess over the betrayed look in Severus' eyes or the way his mouth had pursed in anger or even the horrible curses that had left his wand or...

Dammit.

Lily stomped her foot and leaned against the wall, banging lightly her head against the stone. What was the purpose of musing over something she had no control over? He had made his choice, she had made hers.

It was over.

She just had to get over the fact that the Severus she had held so close to her heart was gone. The little boy that wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a better man than his father was dead. He had been murdered by peer pressure and his own insecurities. There wasn't anything she could do anymore.

You can't fight someone else's battles.

Still. It hurt and Lily felt her resolve crumbling. Shaking her head, Lily opened her eyes, only realising then how she had closed them in exhaustion. Looking around, she tried to figure out where her feet had led her to while she got lost in her own little world. Recognizing the painting of the three drunk monks that hung near the library, she situated herself on the third floor. Waving at the jovial friars and returning weakly the smile that split their red-tinted cheeks, Lily decided to put her free time to good use and headed in direction of Madam Pince's domain. Might as well get some homework done.

She had not made it further than five meters when she stopped abruptly. There, lounging on the window sill looking as if he didn't have a care in the world, was James Potter, head burrowed into what seemed like old decrepit parchments and eyes roaming fervently over the notes as though the boy was looking for something in particular.

Upon seeing him, Lily's heart dropped and she almost turned right on the spot. She had been doing a fine job of avoiding the Marauders like the plague since the beginning of the semester. The unreasonable fury she felt whenever her path crossed theirs made her apprehend the lengths she would go to, was she to confront them and let her temper loose. She did not think the Hogwarts' populace was ready for the storm that would then rage or the insults that would rain on the four boys' swollen head.

As soon as she considered retracing her steps to beg Madam Pomfrey to let her assist her a little longer, Lily decided against it. She was not about to let James Potter rule over her actions. Striding forward confidently, she made to pass by him, her heart thumping in anticipation.

One step, two steps, three steps... Nothing. As she made her way down the passageway, Lily felt her throat tightened. She did not know what she had been expecting but it certainly wasn't this. Unconsciously, Lily slowed down.

What? No jabbing, no smirking, no inappropriate flirting?

He was just going to ignore her? Her and the overwhelming pent up rage she had been accumulating all through summer?

He did not have the right. He had responsibilities for Christ's sake. He was the reason she felt such like a bloody mess. Without him, she would not feel so alone and defeated. Without him, Severus would not have thought of himself as being so out of place. Without James freaking Potter, Severus might still be...

"Evans?"

There. That seemed more like it.

"What do you want Potter?" asked Lily, her tone as cold as ice. She stopped in her tracks but did not turn around, in case the boy noticed the eager look in her eyes.

"Ah? Er.." the boy stuttered and Lily felt her patience wearing thin. "I guess I wanted to thank you. For earlier I mean. If you hadn't intervened, Snape would certainly have hexed the shit out of me."

Lily whirled around, her hair flaring around her dramatically, or so she hoped. "Let's make something clear. If it wasn't for you and the ticking bomb you call your best friend, the cataclysm of this morning could have been avoided all together. So don't go deluding yourself into thinking I stopped Snape because of some change of heart I've had about you. My feelings are the same as the last time I had the misfortune of being in your presence for longer than five minutes. I did it because it was what was right and because it is my duty as a prefect. Don't flatter yourself."

The faint smile James had worn quickly faded as she delivered her ridiculously long rant. His face grew serious as he slowly stood and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were soft in resignation.

Panting, Lily felt ire bubbling in the pit of her stomach. How dare he look so calm?

"Still. I owe you."

What?

Where was the yelling? Where were the fists clenching, the teeth grinding, the cheeks burning? Since when was James Potter acting like the mature one in their dynamic duo? This was not what Lily needed from him right now. She didn't want his freaking understanding or his stupid thanks.

How did he manage to make her feel like the petulant child in this situation? She was entitled to feel angry damn it!

Lily was growing desperate to get a rise out of him by now. "What's with the new attitude, Potter?" she breathed after a moment of silence. Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper: a glaring sign that she was beyond exasperated.

James' eyes searched her face as he tilted his head slightly to the side. The boy, arms stilled crossed, leaned in. A tiny crooked smile stretched on his lips and Lily then realised he could see right through her act. "What is it exactly that you want from me Evans?"

She wanted him to give her a reason to hex him into the next century.

She wanted to blast him of his feet and wipe that bloody smirk right off his face. She wanted her fury to finally come out of her and leave her in peace already.

For the first time in her life, Lily Evans wanted to start a fight and the only person that could have given it to her simply refused to cooperate.

Before she could even think of a good comeback a loud noise startled her. Glancing in the direction of the disturbance, she saw the gargoyle, which she knew hid the entrance to the Headmaster's office, slipped aside, the sound of stone grinding against the floor filling her ears.

James frowned in confusion. "Did anyone get sent to Dumbledore because of the fight?" he asked Lily.

Nonplussed, the girl shook her head. "Not that I know of."

James brought the parchment he was still holding close to his face and looked at it for a second before his eyes suddenly widened. Immediately, he stuffed the notes into his pockets and fumbled in the depths of his robes from which he extracted a long shimmery piece of cloth. As the boy wrapped himself with it, Lily noted in surprise how parts of James' anatomy seemed to simply flicker out of sight.

"Is that an invisibility cloak?" she squeaked. Well that explained a lot.

"Yes." answered James impatiently. "Now, hurry and get under."

Lily snorted at this. "No way in hell."

James cursed and looked up in exasperation. Then, without warning, his hand shot forward and the wizard grabbed the girl's wrist, yanking her towards him and sending her crashing against his chest. His arm went around her and James got a firm hold of her waist, preventing her from escaping his grasp. Furious, her head shot up and, as she opened her mouth in order to give him a piece of her mind, the boy raised a finger to his lips and signalled her to keep silent. Just as Lily was about to begin shouting obscenities, sound of feet descending the stairs of Dumbledore's office reached them and James' grip tightened slightly.

Down came a tall woman dressed in robes made of material so rich she might as well have been wearing a gown. She reminded Lily of witches from another time, ones that looked down their nose and sneered at her from their canvas hanging on the walls in school library every time the girl took place in a reading alcove. Everything about her, from her delicate eyebrows down to her high cheekbones, literally screamed aristocracy.

She seemed familiar, as if she was related to someone Lily knew but, the girl could not quite put her finger on who. The redhead did not have to wait long to discover why.

Trailing behind the woman was Amelia, walking with all her habitual grace as her mother marched down the corridor looking as if she just had swallowed a whole lemon. The two witches nearly grazed the invisible teens as they passed by them. James and Lily that had to squish themselves against the wall to avoid collision.

As soon as the women were out of earshot, James made to follow, pulling on Lily's arm to drag her along. Curiosity getting the best of her, the girl let him. After a few minutes of silent pursuit, James seemed to figure out where the witches were headed. Turning abruptly left, he lifted a tapestry, which apparently hid the entrance of a passageway, and led Lily down the narrow space, never taking his hand off her wrist.

Finally they arrived at what seemed like the end of the hidden hallway and James took his parchments out again. Whispering a quiet _lumos_, he studied them for a second before a triumphal smile lighted his face. He motioned to Lily to stay close to him. As they made it out of the passage, Amelia and her mother came around the corner. Lady Deauclair then opened a door to their right and waited for her daughter to catch up with her.

Amelia stopped a few feet away from the older woman and stared blankly at her. The girl's indifferent gaze was met with a warning glare. Amelia finally preceded her mother into the empty classroom. Before the hem of Lady Deauclair's robes could disappear inside, James surged forward, almost lifting Lily in his haste. They made it out in time to slip through the door as it slowly swung close.

Hastily they huddled in the corner the nearest to the entrance and turned their attention to the front of the room, where the teacher usually stood, facing the rows of desks. There, standing on the pulpit, stood Amelia and Marguerite Deauclair, facing each other.

When Lady Deauclair finally spoke up, after an eternity of heated silence, her voice was devoid of all warmth. It took a while for Lily to figure out why her speech sounded so familiar yet so strange. Apparently Lady Deauclair reverted to speaking in French when angered. Good thing Lily's parents took Petunia and her to La Rochelle every summer.

By the way James squinted at the older witch, listening attentively at what she was saying, Lily had no doubt the boy was also fluent in French.

Well, it made sense.

When she was in elementary school, Lily's teacher had told her class how the French language had been considered for a long time as the nobles' speech, making it the most learned language among high society.

Aristocrats remained the same whether they were magical or not it seemed.

"Does bringing shame to your family amuse you somehow? Do you find it pleasurable?"

"Really mother, when pleasure crosses my mind, a lot of things come to me but I can tell you that none of them is family." replied Amelia with a nonchalant eye roll.

Lily's eyes widened. The mutual displeasure of being in each other's presence was blaringly obvious and for the redhead, whose relationship with her mother was more than enjoyable, such a show of outright disrespect was shocking.

"Don't you think I do not know what you are trying to accomplish here. Merlin, you are still hung up on this boy. This is all his fault. I should have known you would not let it go." hissed Lady Deauclair, pointing an accusing finger at her daughter's chest.

"By Morgana, get off your high horse. It is only a House. It barely means anything." said Amelia brusquely. Lily could tell the girl was trying to wave her mother's comment away but the stiffness of her neck betrayed her agitation.

"Only a House? You are I both know it means much more than this around here. You could have come down the street and made a statement for all the different it would have made. I remember perfectly what Lady Black had to say about the Gryffindor House. It is full of mudbloods and muggle-lovers."

James tensed behind her and Lily could tell without glancing at him that the boy had a murderous look on his face.

"Lady Black said a lot of things, every single one of them sounding crazier than the other, so pardon me if I do not give much weight to her words." spat Amelia.

Lady Deauclair took a menacing step forward. "Enough. People have already started talking. Lady Parkinson has had the audacity to ask about your peculiar behavior already. Have you not known this would happened you would already have written home to inform us yourself of your sorting." Her voice had gone up an octave.

"I was not aware our relationship was one where we cared about each other's whereabouts." Amelia said offhandedly. This only served to infuriate her mother more so.

"I will not tolerate your insolence any longer. If you think that I have married so well only to produce an offspring whose actions make people question my allegiances and the way I raised my daughter, you are sadly mistaken." nearly screeched the woman, trembling all over.

At this, Amelia burst out laughing, looking at her mother with something akin to pity. "Marguerite, I do hope this was simply a show of your indecent naivety. You cannot have possibly married into the Deauclair family thinking it would give you a free pass to breathe freely and preserve you from all the scrutiny. It would pained me to know you were such an idiot." sneered the girl with upmost condescendence.

The resounding smack that then echoed in the room took Lily by surprise and it was only James's quick thinking that prevented them from being discovered as he clamped his hand over the redhead's mouth to muffle the sound of the gasp she let out. Disbelieving, Lily turned to look at James in shock. However, the boy did not meet her gaze. He was staring at the scene before them with dark eyes, hardened with anger, and Lily could tell, by the way his jaw shifted, that he was grinding his teeth into dust.

Back on the podium, Amelia had reeled back from the shock and was holding a hand to her stinging cheek, head downcast. Slowly she straightened as to face her mother and, as she did, warmth seemed to be sucked out of the room. Lily shivered.

"You know" said Amelia, her whisper barely reaching Lily's ears. "Given my condition, one would say it would be best not to anger me."

Unaffected Lady Deauclair leered. "Ah yes. Why don't you remind me of your abnormality once again. As if it hadn't got us in trouble once too many time already."

Amelia suddenly smirked. Her smile, wicked and downright terrifying in its inappropriateness, was unnerving: it was too large, it showed too many teeth and it was so cold in a way that made the girl look more like a food-deprived wolf than the young witch she was supposed to be. Lily took an involuntary step backwards and fell right back in James' arms.

Just who was Amelia Deauclair?

"Maman. My dear mother. If I am so much of a burden why don't you simply make me a dreaded souvenir? I hear disownments are all the rage in Britain these days." said the doll-like girl, almost with a giggle. Clearly Amelia believed the thought to be a risible one and taunted the woman in order to aggravate her.

Lady Deauclair did not take the bait however and Lily felt a change in the air, as if the tables had turned and that Amelia was only too slow to realise it.

It was Marguerite Deauclair's turn to smile haughtily. Noticing this, Amelia's features froze and she squinted her eyes in suspicion. It seemed like the mother had as much flair for the dramatics as her daughter for she took a few instants to pat the fabrics of her robes down before she dropped what would obviously be a bombshell. "I am afraid this is not an option. Your father seems to think you might still be useful. As the heiress of the Deauclair family, you hold responsibilities and you will be expected to be true to your lineage."

All colors from Amelia's already pale face were drained from her cheeks and Lily feared the girl might faint on the spot. "I see. Has a suitor already approached Father in my regard?"

Lily's eyebrows shot up in surprise and her heart skipped a beat. They were only sixteen for heaven's sake, surely the Deauclairs were not envisaging their daughter's engagement. That would be barbaric.

"That should not be before too long. Once the rumor of the first proposal is out, many will follow. Your father and I will have to consider every and each one of them carefully. Britain is in a precarious situation, a refusal in these times of conflict could be disastrous given our status. You understand of course, that, being a looming figure of the magical community as we are, our every move will be judged and will have consequences. This cannot be taken lightly."

It took a while for Amelia to fully comprehend what the witch had said but, the second the girl took her mother's words fully in, a hard glint shone in her eyes and her lips thinned. "You never intended to let it slide, didn't you? Is this why we moved here, so you could get back at me in that twisted way of yours?"

"You didn't actually think we came to live in Britain so you could learn from the _great_ Albus Dumbledore? Please tell me you weren't that naive." said Lady Deauclair. Clearly she was overjoyed to be able to throw her daughter's own words back at her.

Lily could not help but to hate the woman's superior air. How could someone be so unpleasant?

Amelia was beginning to feel cornered and panic showing through her voice. "You do not know what you are talking about. You do not understand. These people, they are dangerous." she insisted with urgency. "They do not care who they harm. This goes beyond any will for Pureblood supremacy. Moving is here, only to make me earn my lesson: it was reckless. Did you actually believe they would call it quits if you simply handed me over?"

Lady Deauclair shook her head knowingly. "We were perfectly aware of the risks when we took our decision. You did not leave us with any other choice. The usual warnings were not enough. More discipline was required, more leverage I'd say. Besides, I doubt they will ask for more after you become one of them. Nothing will be asked from us anymore, especially once they know what you are capable of." she drawled.

Amelia seemed to have realized trying to reason with her mother was not going to do any good. Her eyes became steely and she stood straighter. "This is not going to happen. I won't let it. I will not become some Dark Lord's puppet, only so you can have the satisfaction of having the last word. I refuse."

There was a desperation in her demeanor that made Lily wonder just how far Amelia was willing to go to make sure she stayed true to her words. The redhead's heart went out to the witch.

"You refuse? Pardon me, but did I, at some point, imply your willingness was in any way part of the question? Don't fool yourself, had the events of last spring not taken place, your fate would have remained the same." stated Lady Deauclair severely.

Amelia stayed silent. Her eyes were drilling holes in the wall and her face was once again a mask of blankness.

"Now. As I said, nothing has been settled yet. I might, in my benevolence, allow myself to be swayed. However, for me to feel enough sympathy and attempt to change your father's mind, you will have to show signs of the obedience you used to have and that you seem to have forgotten the meaning of."

Lady Deauclair paid rapt attention to her daughter's features, seemingly drinking in the slightest tremor, the barest twitch that betrayed the girl's uneasiness. Amelia did a good job at putting up a front of indifference. If anything, the lack of expressions was the most obvious glaring sign of the disquiet she surely felt.

After a moment of silent jubilation, Marguerite Deauclair had finally fed off the younger witch's discomfort enough and made her way to the door. "Well everything has been said. I will show myself out."

And with that she was gone.

The silence that descended upon them then was unlike any other Lily had ever experienced. It was like Amelia was lifting a weight off her shoulders and pouring it out in the air surrounding her. Lily felt like choking.

Suddenly Amelia grabbed the inkpot that rested on the teacher's desk and threw it against the wall, kicking a chair as the sound of glass shattering and scattering on the floor filled the room. As the girl pulled at her hair and tried to control her ragged breath, Lily exchanged a troubled glance with James.

It had been nearly a week since the beginning of the semester and, despite Lily's best efforts, Amelia had kept her distances from her. Except for the occasional empty pleasantries, the witches had barely talked to one another. This was the first time the redhead ever saw Amelia expressing so much raw emotions. By witnessing someone else's breakdown, Lily felt as if she was guilty of some kind of sick voyeurism.

Deeply disturbed, Lily was about to gesture to James that it would be best for them to leave when Amelia suddenly straightened from her prostrated position. After running her fingers through her golden locks, she picked up her wand and conjured a mirror which she used to check her appearance briefly before storming out.

Apparently, the girl was not willing to indulge in self-pity any longer.

Once her footsteps receded and James was certain they were alone, he pulled the cloak off them. Lily found she could barely breathe better.

They stood there for a while, avoiding each other's eyes, at lost for words.

When Lily finally found it in her to speak, her voice lacked the outrage she felt, the turmoil she was in. "So what is going to happen to her? Are they going to force her into a marriage she doesn't want? Is that even legal?"

"It is. In the magical community, arranged marriage are still common, especially among purebloods." sighed James, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Good God, it's as if wizards were still stuck in the Regency era!" spluttered Lily angrily.

"Different world, different rules Evans." James told her with a hollow tone that gave an idea of his opinion on the question.

Lily had to give it to him: at least Potter did not seem to buy into the purebloods' misogynist views of women. Nor their take on muggleborns, or muggles for that matter.

Potter was a strange bird.

"What concerns me the most is that they are considering giving her hand in marriage to a Death Eater." added James, brows furrowed.

Lily licked her lips nervously. "But those were empty threats. Weren't they?" she asked with half-heartened hope.

The way James looked at her then, with his eyes full of pity, confirmed her fears. "Old magical families consider that a witch is the property of her parents until the day she weds. She then becomes her husband's responsibility as well as his property. His decisions are hers as well and it is her duty to obey his demands."

"That's... That is…"

Unable to finish her thought, Lily stopped talking and focused on the swelling feeling she got in her airways. Now was not the time to stop breathing.

As Lily tried to remember how to function properly, James shook himself out of the pensive state he had been in and made to leave the classroom as well. Dumbfounded, Lily watched him walk, robot-like, towards the exit. "Where are you going?"

James blinked owlishly. "To the kitchen."

"The kitchen? Is it really the time to think about eating?" stuttered the girl. This was unbelievable.

James grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. "Well this is a lot to take in and I can't think on an empty stomach." As on cue, a loud rumble was then heard. Blushing lightly, James put a hand on his midsection and gave Lily a pained look.

Had the situation not been so bloody dramatic, the redhead might have laugh. In this instance, all she managed to do was close her eyes tiredly. "Lead the way, Potter."

Lily did not fully understand what possessed to do so, but she followed James out. Once again, she found herself trailing after him: down stairs they went; turning left, turning right, slipping through hidden doors and behind various suits of armor. Whereas Lily could not have find her way back to the Gryffindor Common room for the life of her, James seemed to know perfectly where he was going.

After an eternity, they halted in front of a wall-length painting of a bowl of fruits. Leaning in, James raised an arm, and, to Lily's surprise, began to tickle a green plump pear, who then proceed to giggle. _Giggle._

Apparently this gesture acted as a password for the painting unexpectedly swung open.

Immediately as they came through, they were assaulted by a dozen of squeaky creatures that clung to their knees and looked up at them with adoration. House-elves, whose existence Lily had discovered by accident in fourth year, were servile and eager entities. Falling over each other in their excitement, they inquired what they could do to please their masters.

After a few confusing minutes, Lily found herself sat in front of a hot cocoa with James by her side. The boy, she noticed, had become gloom after having dealt with the house-elves. Surely he was still musing over what had happened back in the classroom.

Frowning, Lily began to worry her lips unconsciously. Now that the adrenaline was slowly ebbing away, the girl could feel the anxiety creeping in.

Lily was no idiot. She had known He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a menace. Unlike a lot of her fellow students, she had taken the threats thrown in muggleborns' direction very seriously. The children born from non-magical parents had been the targets of too many attacks and sneak tricks not to pay attention to the on growing danger.

The prejudices against her kind becoming more and more present in her everyday life, Lily had understood something was changing and had not been willing to be caught unaware. She had spent the entire summer vacation scanning the Daily Prophet carefully. What she had gathered by reading in between the lines was alarming.

She was also aware that some kind of aspirant Death Eaters group had begun to form here, in Hogwarts. She had been slowly losing Severus to these people all along.

However she had somehow thought, albeit foolishly, that joining these wannabe terrorists, for that was what they were, was a personal decision. Realizing that some were forced into this, like some sort of child soldiers, was earth-shattering.

"What are going to do about it?" blurted out Lily without thinking.

James jumped, as if she just had awaken him from a trance, and turned his head towards her with a nonplussed expression. "Do what about what?"

"We have to do something to help her. We just can't let things the way they are." said Lily with conviction. Now that she had said it out loud she felt as if inaction was out of the question.

How could she ever live with herself knowing she had allowed some girl to become a child bride? As if being married to a Death Eater wasn't bad enough...

"I don't understand what you mean."

Annoyed, Lily raised her eyebrow at James. "Potter are you daft? I meant: how can we help Amelia?"

It was James' turn to act as if Lily had lost a few brain cells. "Surprisingly enough, I had gathered that Evans. What I don't get is just how you think she'll accept your help. And this is assuming you find a way to queer her parents' pitch."

James' dubitative tone took Lily by surprise and disappointed her for some reason. She had expected him to jump right on board with it.

"I'll find a way." The girl was aware of how childish she sounded but she honestly had no clue how to act anymore.

She was getting so tired of feeling useless.

"Good luck with that." the boy snorted.

Suddenly Lily's temper flared. Was he purposely being a prick or what?

"What is your problem?" burst out the girl, beside herself with anger. "I would have thought you would have jumped at a chance like this. This girl: she's a Pureblood, and she wants nothing to do with the Dark Lord. She's willing to go against her parents' will not to be associated with him. Aren't you willing to lend her a hand?"

Something changed in the way James looked at her then. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows creased: the perfect representation of stubbornness. Lily had finally succeeded in making James Potter angry.

"Right, back up for a second. The way I see it, Amelia Deauclair doesn't give a rat's ass about You-Know-Who. I know this type of girls, Evans. People like her are proud more than anything; all that matters to them is themselves. Deauclair doesn't care about what He-Must-Not-Be-Named stands for, she doesn't want someone dictating her life, that's all."

"Say you're right. Who cares? Call it teenage rebellion if you'd like, but right now, Amelia is on our side. What difference does it make what she's in it for?" retorted Lily hotly.

"What difference does it make? Seriously?" asked James, eyebrows raised so high they disappeared behind his fringe. "It makes the difference between someone that's gonna take a stand and someone that's gonna stand on the sidelines while bitching about it."

"So what? Because she isn't a true fighter like you, a fierce defender of muggleborns and muggles alike; she isn't worth saving. Is that what you are saying?" Lily's cheeks and neck were becoming tinged with red. That prat saw the world as if it was black and white, acting as if he knew everything.

James threw his hands in the air in frustration, letting out a small cry of exasperation.

"Of course not. Don't be silly. All I say is that you can't count on Amelia Deauclair. You're ready to put your head on the block for this girl, but when the time comes, she won't deliver. She has already had an opportunity to make a total turn around, to distance herself from all this bullshit and she didn't take it. She's not willing to make sacrifices." he growled out, obviously making a reference to the events surrounding Amelia's odd sorting.

Ah. There it was: what had been bothering James so much. Realization hit Lily like a ton of bricks.

"You can't be possibly going there Potter. You can't simply compare her to Black, that's totally unfair." the girl stated.

She understood where James was going from. She did. Words of Sirius' estrangement had gone around and Lily honestly doubted there was still a soul in the whole castle that hadn't heard about it. However, no matter how much courage it had taken Sirius to tell his parents to stuff it with all their irrational beliefs, it did not mean everyone could do the same. In this case, the situation was completely different.

"Really, how?" inquired darkly James, leaning on the back of his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sirius had you to back him up! It makes all the difference in the world!" urged Lily.

Something in James seemed to snap. "So what do you suggest Evans? You want me to become best buddies with her? Offer her one of those matching best friend bracelets, uh?" he asked mockingly. "In case you haven't noticed she isn't exactly open to new relationships. You doesn't want your help nor mine and she doesn't care for friends."

"Well, that's the biggest lie ever told. You and I both know that." deadpanned Lily. James didn't answer, but glared moodily.

His attitude was irking her deeply. He always did that: judging people before he really got to know them and then refusing to make up his mind no matter what happened next. How stupid was that?

How the hell could he not get into his little head that, more often than not, there was more than what met the eye?

"You know what your problem is? You're unable to recognize your mistake. You painted her black from the second you met her and now that you realise she isn't the monster you thought she was, you can't..."

James didn't let her finish. "Bloody hell, Evans she isn't a saint either! Stop being so..."

Determined to make herself heard, Lily interrupted him and practically yelled her next sentence. "Sometimes what we live at home forces us to act a certain way!" she looked at him with contempt. "I wouldn't expect you of all people to understand but not everybody's parents worship the ground their children walk on. What one needs is not to be faced by another set of bullies when summer is over."

Flashes of Severus' bruised cheek came to Lily's mind.

The boy seemed to guess her train of thoughts. "This is not about Amelia Deauclair anymore, is it?" he breathed with an unreadable expression. "For your information, Evans, I know a lot more about parental pressure and mistreating than you can imagine. And it does not justify acting like a right prick the moment you're out of their reach."

"Well, that is a bit hypocritical coming out of your mouth." snapped the redhead.

James' eyes flashed. "The marauders and I never picked on anyone without a good reason." he snarled.

"Without a good reason?" cried Lily, daggers coming out of her eyes. "You're joking, aren't you? What about Severus? You've been bullying him for years now and what for? A petty rivalry and your own amusement! Or are those what you call good reasons?!"

"Snape had what was coming for him! He's a vile, creepy, bootlicking bastard and he always was!" ranted the bespectacled boy.

"Severus was not like that!" choked Lily, ignoring the burning sensation behind her eyelids. "You made him out to be! You pushed him around, poked, jeered and laughed at him so much that he started believing being himself wasn't enough. You made him seek out their protection. Because I wasn't enough to keep you and your intimidating ways at bay. It's because of you he lashed out at me! You made him!"

The chair James had been sitting on scraped and crashed on the stone floor as he jumped to his feet. On the other side of the room, a few house-elves squeaked in terror and one even dropped to the ground, falling into a dead faint. "If you think Snape ever needed my help to call you names, then you're better think twice." thundered the wizard, a finger jabbing the air in between them. "Do you honestly think that last semester was the first time Snivellus had called you a mudblood? He was being a jerk to you before we ever were on his case!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, James seemed to regret them and Lily felt her extremities go numb. "You're messing with my head."

This couldn't be true.

James took a step back as if to give her some more space. "Yes, I must be..." he mumbled softly. He was staring at her the same way he had when she had called Lady Deauclair's menaces a bluff; contemplating her as if she was too fragile for this world.

She was beginning to hate that look on his face.

She needed to get out of there.

"I really don't know why I asked for your help: I guess that of all the things I thought you were I never would have guessed you would turn out to be such a coward." she said, out of spite.

She turned on the spot and left, nearly trampling over Black, as he made to open the door of the kitchen.

As she walked away, Lily shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She was not going to let Potter get under her skin. He had been lying for sure: he had wanted to hurt her and he had succeeded. There wasn't more to it and she wasn't about to let this slow her down.

Amelia needed help and Lily was going to make things right whether with or without him. She had to.

Who needed James Potter anyway?

* * *

><p><strong>You do Lily. You really do, you just don't know it yet.<strong>

**And to say some people think James and Lily didn't belong together. Honestly, these two care way too much about others. Can't think of how Harry ended up with a hero complex...**

**I know Lily may come up a bit annoying at this point, but take a moment to remember how much Harry complained about everything in OOTP. **

**You know some people when they reach puberty, they eat a lot. Some worry about their appearance way too much. Some psychoanalyze themselves until they feel depressed about themselves. **

**Others, like Harry and Lily, are angry at the world (I'm not saying they don't have good reasons to). **

**People kept telling Harry how similar he was to his father physically. What they forgot to tell him, in my opinion, is how much he acted like his mother: incredibly kind, open-minded and a bit prone to dramatic rants. **

**That's my time people! See you next chapter!**


	9. Second nature

**Dear readers, I cannot stress enough how appreciative I am of your patience and your dedication. I surely hope this chapter will be worth the wait. **

**This story has gotten is pretty close to 5000 views and that fact alone blows my mind away. I mean: who would have thought?! Thanks again for this. **

**What do you guys think about the new picture cover? Pretty sweet, isn't it? Needless to say that this girl is Amelia. Didn't think I could find someone who would look like the character I had imagined in that little head of mine but here it is!**

**Ignore my excited rambling, on with the story! After all, you waited long enough.**

**PS.: please note that I do NOT share the opinions displayed by some of my characters. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

Second Nature

Sometimes all Remus would wish for was to be able to be anywhere else than where he was. Anywhere but in his own skin.

That morning, the boy had woken up to find the world swimming around him. Nearly hissing at the rays of light filtering through the curtains surrounding his bed and jabbing him painfully in the eyes, Remus had barely held back a moan.

It was this time of the month again.

It shouldn't come as a surprise really. After all, it was an occurrence that was pretty predictable. It sucked nonetheless, and Remus couldn't help thinking it was a despicable way to start a school year.

The full moon would be shining down upon earth that very night and the boy's bones were already aching mercilessly as if warming up in advance for the brutal stretching it would have to endure.

The pain had him up at dawn. He spent the next few hours stuck in limbo: his body swaying undecidedly in between exhaustion and alertness.

When it was finally time to start the day, Remus emerged from his bed with his thoughts muddled and his mood plummeting. As soon as his feet hit the freezing floor though, his knees buckled and the boy crashed to the ground pathetically, his limbs refusing to cooperate. Groaning and cursing against the strike his infuriating nerves had decided to stage, the werewolf laboriously pushed himself back into a standing position.

He nose-dived in direction of the bathroom, staggering his way through the room and kicking Peter's trunk to the side angrily when he almost stumbled over it. Once the door was closed behind him, Remus began to peel his drenched night clothes off his feverish skin. Throwing them on the tiles, he entered the shower and turned it on.

Closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the wall, the boy let the warm water hit the top of his skull, glide down his neck and rush over his shoulders. He lost track of time. When he was conscious of his surroundings again, he had no idea of how long he had been dozing off. Upon seeing that his skin had turned bright crimson and that he could no longer feel it, Remus figured he had wasted enough time in there.

Gripping the edge of the shower as to prevent himself from slipping on the floor, the werewolf left behind the comfort of the water and took a few steps into the bathroom. Steam left his skin along with the warmth it had provided and mixed with the fog that clung in the air. Suddenly finding himself shivering, Remus realized he had forgotten to bring his school uniform with him and cursed.

As soon as the thought came to him though, the brume cleared slightly, and he spotted a pile of robes on the counter which he hadn't noticed before.

Seems like the Marauders knew better than to let the boy think for himself on the day of the full moon. One of them must have anticipated his absent-mindedness and put the clothes there the night before.

Dismissing the questions in his head, which had begun to hurt again, Remus grabbed the robes and attempted to put them on the right way.

When he finally emerged, he found his roommates going about their business in relative silence, a kind of quiet in stark contrast with the usual chaos that ruled the room on most mornings. No more yelling from Peter who, like always, couldn't find a clean pair of socks, no more swearing coming from James as he tried to somehow tame his hair and no more loud guffaws from Sirius, who got a blast from observing Prongs' attempts to smooth down the capillary explosion that lay on top of his skull.

Remus could not figure out if he was grateful for the lack of auditory assault or if it made him feel uneasy.

A marauder was a loud marauder after all.

When Wormtail finally managed to track down his last woollen sock, which had somehow turned out to be in James' paper bin, the four boys, Moony in the lead, made their way to the door, yawning and rubbing their stomach in anticipation of the breakfast that was waiting for them in the Great Hall.

Before Remus could even reach the handle however, James had half-jogged, half-danced around him. "How about I go first." said Prongs with a dopey smile before disappearing downstairs.

Remus blinked.

Sooner than later though, Moony's temper flared and his lips thinned as he glared at the closing door. Turning to his best friends, Remus frowned in displeasure. "It happened once. I'm not stupid enough to let it happen twice. What does he think he'll do anyway: wait with his arms out in case my foot slips again?"

Even in his drowsy state, Remus knew the difference between protectiveness and paranoia. James' attitude was borderline condescending in his opinion. Honestly, Prongs was overbearing enough on most days, but when the full moon was near, things got ridiculous.

Peter and Sirius did not seem surprised by his snappy tone, but exchanged a knowing look, which only served to irk Remus some more.

Raising an eyebrow, Peter spoke cautiously. "Well you know the saying: better be safe than sorry."

"Besides" said Sirius, thrusting his hands in his pockets, "I'd rather not have to scrape you off the ground every time you take a swallow dive into the stairs."

"One time. It was one time." huffed Remus thoroughly annoyed.

Peter sent him a compassionate look and shrugged, before following Prongs out.

Moony stayed there for a second, too mad and too nauseous to move an inch. Beside him, Sirius chuckled. "Come on Moons, humor him. It makes James feel better."

White hot guilt jabbed the werewolf's heart briefly. As much as he didn't like to admit it, Remus knew he wasn't the only one suffering from his condition. For people like James, having to witness their friend's discomfort was as painful as having to live with the curse themselves.

It had taken a while for Remus to realize this, for he wasn't use to this kind of reaction. Wariness? Repulsion? Pity? Sure, he got that all the time. Compassion though?

See, it's easy to feel pity for a total stranger. Pity is something you can throw around without giving it so much thought. Compassion is a whole different story.

Compassion comes from the need, no, the urge to share some of the person's pain.

No one in their right mind would feel that way for an individual they didn't truly care about. Compassion is the kind of emotion that grows out of friendship.

Anger subdued for now, Remus sighed defectively and begun the tedious descent down the spiral staircase. Ignoring Sirius' none-too-subtle chortles, Remus took one step at a time, progressing with painful slowness: there was no way in hell he was giving reason to James bloody Potter.

When he finally made it to the Common Room, Peter and James seemed to be involved in an argument by the portrait hole.

"I'm telling you James, let it go. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

"Did you see how she looked at me this morning Wormtail? I swear that girl has brainwashed her or something! It's not natural."

"What isn't? Lily looking down her nose at you? Get real."

As soon as Moony and Padfoot neared them, Wormtail caught sight of his friends and ended the discussion abruptly with a shake of his head. With the way James' eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets and his arms crossed in front of him, it didn't take a genius to guess who had won this round.

"So what are you two bickering about on this fine morning?" asked Sirius with barely hidden curiosity.

James' eyes became as big as saucers. "Nothing."

It was Padfoot's time to huff. James had a lot of talents, but lying to Sirius was not one of them. "Okaaay…"

Uncharacteristically, Padfoot decided to let it go and before he knew it, Remus was swatting away Sirius' hand as the boy offered it to help him climb out of the portrait hole.

"Don't push your luck, mutt." growled Moony.

Laughter was the only answer he got in return.

Damn dog.

Once his feet hit stone, the world around Moony faded from existence and the boy's focus zoomed on Prongs' back. Everything was too bright, too loud. All of the werewolf's energy was spent trying to put one foot behind the other without losing sight of his friend. Finding his way through the maze of hallways and secret passages was beyond Moony's ability at the moment and following James like a lost puppy was the only course of action that would eventually lead him in front of a plate of sausages.

Sausages sounded like heaven right now.

Remus' dream of juicy and sizzling meats was brusquely tore apart as a shove from behind nearly sent him sprawling on the ground.

Feeling as if a switch had been turned on inside his brain, the boy's body trembled as a tremor ran down his spine. Heart beating loudly in his ears, Remus felt fury spread like ice-cold water through his veins.

One pulse. Two pulses.

Inside him, Moony's head snapped up, fangs bared. His throat itched; a growl was building up.

The wolf was mad.

His environment now in sharp focus, Moony's glare zeroed in on two young boys running away with insolent smirks on their faces. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched at the sight, the werewolf's breath came shorter and his pupils dilated.

How dare they mock him in such a way?

A burning sensation overcame Remus' muscles. Moony wanted to chase, the wolf wanted to kill.

The boys weren't that far yet, the beast could easily reach them. It was a matter of two great strides, and then their flesh would...

"Oi, watch where you going, you little punks!"

"Yes, have a little respect for your elders!"

Shoulder held by a vice-grip, Remus blinked.

Padfoot's face filled his vision. "You alright Lupin?"

Dazed, Remus nodded. Spitting aside to get rid of the iron taste in his mouth and raising a hand to his lips, the boy frowned at the blood that covered his fingers.

Padfoot clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "Musta bitten yourself."

"Here, have my handkerchief." Peter offered with a shaky smile as he waved a greyish cloth in Remus' direction.

Before Remus could even make an attempt at retrieving the handkerchief, James had snatched it away and was inspecting it with an air of suspicion. "Mate, did you even wash this?"

Peter's grimace had Prongs sighing in exasperation. James siphoned the dirt with his wand before handing the cloth to Remus with a knowing smile.

"Honestly, brats these days!" sneered Sirius. "They show no consideration whatsoever."

James met Padfoot's indignant glare with a stern gaze. "Get off your high horse, will you. If I remember correctly, these are the kids you raced to the Great Hall not even two days ago. Pretty sure you knocked more than your fair amount of people that time too. Talk about consideration."

Sirius' smile was unbashful. "You're missing the whole point, man. I won, didn't I?"

Prongs snorted. Shaking his head at his unrepentant friend, James slung an arm loosely around Moony's shoulders and coaxed him into walking again.

Without really realizing what was happening, Remus followed Prongs' lead and distractedly listened to his mates' amiable bantering.

"Well it's not exactly fair." Peter pointed out. "Your legs are twice as long as theirs!"

Padfoot's eyes twinkled in mirth and his smirk became wider. "Jealous Peter? Not my fault you got stuck with the short end of the stick. Don't blame your lousy genetics on me!"

Apparently Sirius couldn't think of anything funnier than his own humor and burst out laughing, clutching his sides. As his guffaws filled the air, Wormtail looked less than impressed by the boy's hilarity.

After chuckling a bit at Padfoot's antics, James came to Peter's rescue. "Don't worry Wormtail. Long legs give you no advantage when you're an idiot. All you end up doing is crashing into door frames."

Sirius stopped giggling at once and looked mildly offended. "One time!" he yelled.

With the face of someone who just won the jackpot, James continued his taunting. "It was all it took to leave your brain addled, am I right? I seem to recall that you invited Myrtle on a date the very next day."

"On a dare!" Padfoot yelped.

"My point exactly," prompted Prongs "who in their right mind would accept a bet like that?!"

Finally cracking, James starting laughing at his friend's expense, joining Peter who had lost it long ago and looked ready to wet himself.

Red-faced, Sirius marched into the Great Hall with a stiff back, grabbing Moony by the arm as he went past him. As much as he would have wanted to, Remus could not bring himself to care about Sirius' embarrassment, and, as soon as food was at reaching distance, he started piling up eggs, muffins, sausages and toasts onto his plate.

They had woken up early and the Hall was deserted. The few people slowly trickling in were doing little to add to the low humming of conversations. The sky was slowly changing from pink to a clear blue that held promises of grass wet with dew and of crisp, fresh air.

Remus barely noticed any of this. He was vaguely aware of James by his side, going on and on about how fantastic the weather would be for a friendly game of Quidditch against Lewis and his mates from Hufflepuff. The werewolf did not really care; he was rubbish at flying anyway.

All he wanted was to enjoy this small moment of relief: his belly was full, his senses weren't overwhelmed, his headache was tolerable and his nausea was practically nonexistent. The boy knew it was not going to last and he wanted to make the best of it before anything could come and ruin..

A shrill laugh suddenly pierced the air, tearing Remus away from his drowsy state of mind with a cringe. The source of the offensive sound took the form of a thirteen year old schoolgirl throwing her hair away from her face with an expression of complete oblivion. The girl's face, round and lacking the line that habitually betrayed sorrow and worries, was irritating, but it was nothing compared to her obnoxious giggles that rose, high and loud, towards the heavens, grating on Remus' sensitive nerves. The bunch of airheads surrounding her was no better, and each shriek and yelp punctuating the girl's speech sent a jabbing pain through the werewolf's skull.

Fuming, Moony glared at his pumpkin juice. His eyeballs felt like they were on fire and the zone right under his brows was throbbing insufferably. Gasping, the boy pressed the balls of his palms against his lids and tried breathing through his nose to lessen the pain, but to no avails. In the darkness, all he could hear was the yapping of the girl who sat a few meters away. Her voice assaulted his mind like the chirping of a thousand magpies and he felt himself becoming increasingly mad with each second that ticked by.

How he wanted to wring that bloody little bird's neck.

"Moony?, Moony, mate are you alright?"

Opening his eyes, Moony stared at the boy in front of him in annoyance. The dark-haired teen was looking at him with a guarded expression.

"Remus?"

Anger spiked.

The werewolf did not like the tone of this child. The concern in his voice was degrading and unwelcomed. Great creatures should inspire nothing but fear.

Receiving no response seemed to put the boy on edge and, as his grey eyes darkened, the color drained from his face, freckles standing out against his pale skin.

Still, Moony could taste no fear.

The boy's voice did not shake. "Careful Remus, your wolf's showing."

A growl scorched his throat. "Do not call me that."

"What? Remus?" The boy asked slowly as if trying to process something. Out of a sudden, his demeanor became arrogant, provocative. The boy's shoulders straightened and his head leaned towards him: a figure of dominance. "Why? That's your name." he drawled.

Silently, Moony seized the boy up, considering him. The teen was not feeble per se, he was broad and had good bone structure. However, it was nothing the werewolf could not throw aside with one blow.

One swipe of his claws, one bite, and it would be over, certainly.

The stare down went on, and none of the participants moved nor did they concede victory. The boy did not yield, did not blink, did not sweat.

It unnerved the werewolf. Humans were not supposed to be so resilient.

Hair at the base of Moony's neck stood on ends and shivers like a breeze ran along the length of his back. Deep in his guts, the werewolf knew something was off. The boy in front of him took a lot more space than he should have had. His presence filled the air; a looming figure towering over the beast.

The boy's stare did not stray nor did it waver, and for a second, the werewolf was reminded of a big dark hound.

Moony then became aware of a prickling sensation in his neck. It appeared gradually, but soon a burning pain replaced it and it became impossible to ignore. The werewolf felt his spine bent in response and his eyes widened in realisation.

He searched the boy's face but found no sign of weakening and realised that this was a fight he would not win.

Gritting his teeth, he struggled against the strain in his back and shoulders but slowly let his cheek fall on the table, neck exposed to his opponent.

The werewolf had been subdued.

It was as if his whole body had been held under pressure and he was finally relieved of a great weight. Blinking quickly, Remus raised his head and met Sirius' worried gaze. Padfoot must have had detected something different in his demeanor because his face instantly relaxed and he gave him a small smile.

A shuddered breath escaped Remus' lips as he realised how close he had come to losing his self-control. Guilt and shame pooled in the pit of his stomach and Remus averted his eyes.

At the Hufflepuff table, the girl that had caused all the mayhem had settled down and was reading a letter. Looking at her as she absent-mindedly patted her owl, Remus was having a hard time trying to recall what it was about her that had him going off like he had.

Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Well. That was a rhetorical question that needed no answer.

When Remus turned to look at him once again, Sirius' attention was elsewhere. Following his line of sight, the werewolf took in, not without a pang of culpability for not having noticed it before, the distressed expression on Wormtail's face.

The vulnerable looking boy was clutching a letter in his hands and was valiantly fighting back tears. James, trait distorted by concern and sympathy, had placed a comforting hand in between the boy's shoulder blades and drew slow soothing circles on his back.

"Calm down Peter. I'm sure everything is going to be alright." said James in a soft tone that had became familiar to Remus.

"Yeah, Wormy. Your uncle is a tough cookie. He's not that easily intimidated." mumbled Padfoot.

Remus frowned. Sirius was obviously battling with his own emotions and his internal turmoil was visible through the usual mask of indifference and bravado he wore daily.

As James continued to murmur sweet nothings in Peter's ear, Remus caught Sirius' eyes and sent him a questioning look. Padfoot hesitated, uneasiness etched upon his face and brows creased in worry. "Peter's mom wrote to tell him about an incident at his uncle's toy shop in Diagon Alley."

"Harley? Did something happened to him?" Remus had met Peter's uncle a few times during the summer. He was a sweet man; very welcoming and warm.

Remus dreaded Padfoot's answer. Harley had taken up the role of male figure in Peter's life after his father had left. Wormtail adored him, looked up to him. Had anything hurt the man...

"No. Nothing. He went to work the other day to find his shopwindow had been trashed. The front door had been forced open and some of the toys had been tampered with."

"Tampered with?"

Sirius' eyes were dark. "Well, you know: destroyed. It's not like Peter's mom would go into details but we can assume it was meant to scare him."

Peter's voice, which had risen up a few octaves in his misery, interrupted their conversation. "I told him. I told him to move the muggle display to the back room. I told him! I said : Pops, with all that had been happening this summer, you're better be more discreet about it! Or else people are going to think you're trying to mess with them. The wrong kind of people too!"

Wormtail had barely managed to produce more than a squeak by the end of his rant and he was so pale that Remus thought he was going to faint.

Suddenly the jug juice by Padfoot's side exploded, completely drenching him and causing little shards of glass to bounce off the table and onto the floor. As Sirius calmly casted the spells necessary to dry himself and reassemble the jug, James and Remus exchanged a glance, coming to a silent agreement.

Peter's control on his own magic was somewhat lacking and, in times, especially when his emotions ran high, incidents like this were not unusual. James, Sirius and Remus had learnt to expect and deal with these outbursts in a way that wouldn't cause Peter to become overly conscious of himself.

Prongs' tone was gentle. "Mate, how about you go and see Madam Pomfrey, hm? She'll give you a potion to calm your nerves. Don't worry about class, I'll take notes for you."

"I'll come with you. I wasn't feeling so hot anyway." added Remus, not making any effort to hide his exhaustion. He sent Wormtail a small, yet encouraging smile.

After Peter had consented, his Adam's apple wobbling dangerously, Remus led him out of the Great Hall and up to the first floor. By the time they made it to the Hospital Wing, Peter's fear and anxiety were running amok in spite of Remus constant reassurance.

The werewolf, on the other hand, was looking worst for wear. Beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip and on the side of his face, Remus was battling with his own nausea which had come back full force.

Determined to help Peter though, Remus swallowed his own complains and pushed open the doors of the infirmary, dragging the shorter boy to Poppy's office before knocking loudly on the mahogany door.

There was a moment of silence, some shuffling, and then the matron's head appeared in the doorway. Madam Pomfrey looked dishevelled: wild locks of hair frizzled under her bonnet as if she had been pulling at it in frustration. Her lips thinned the second she caught sight of Remus.

That woman had a knack at smelling trouble.

"Mister Lupin, I wasn't expecting you before seven o'clock tonight. What kind of shenanigans have brought you here early? Do I have to de-stick Mister's Potter hand from his hair because of some dual he got into with Mister Black once again? If so, Merlin help me…"

Remus hurried to set her straight. "No, no. None of that Poppy. It's Peter, you see. He hasn't been feeling well. It's his nerves again."

As soon as the nurse saw Peter's shivering form, her attitude softened. "Oh, Mister Pettigrew. What am I going to do with you, child?"

Madam Pomfrey casted a glance behind her and spoke to someone inside her office. "You stay here young lady. I am not done with you." The matron's voice left no place for argumentation. It was the tone she used when dealing with a particularly difficult patient, like Sirius. Or James. Or any of the Marauders, really.

Remus craned his neck to get a peek in the room. Almost as soon as curiosity gripped him, the boy chastised himself.

This was none of his business.

"Just take a seat Mister Lupin," said the woman, gesturing to the row of chairs lined against the wall, "this won't take long."

Energy quickly leaving him, Remus made a beeline for the chairs and collapsed into one, his head lolling back to rest on the stone wall and his eyes fluttering close.

His rest was short-lived however.

"Are you quite alright?" inquired a small voice beside him.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Remus snapped his head to the right and jerked back when he practically nose-bumped with a brown haired girl who was observing him cautiously.

He nodded half-heartedly.

The teen was tiny and her traits were still those of a child. Her doe-like eyes were curious as she openly gawked at him with her head tilted to the side. Remus felt his cheeks burn under her persistent stare.

How he had not detected her presence before was beyond him.

Now that he had however, he could not shake the sense of familiarity he felt around her. It was like he had become accustomed to something about her before. Maybe it was her traits, her voice... her scent.

Memories flood him. All came back to him in flashes: the smell of her panic among the sweat and the adrenaline, her terrified face, her tiny hand in his as he pulled her out of the chaos.

This was the girl he had rescued from the duel a few days ago.

Frowning, he turned to her. "Hey, aren't you.."

Suddenly, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened and Remus clamped his mouth shut. A mane of golden locks emerged from the room and the identity of the matron's secret patient was unveiled.

Dumbfounded, Remus watched as Amelia Deauclair's head turned left and right. After checking if the coast was clear, the witch stepped in the infirmary. Her eyes rested briefly on Remus and his companion, but, as soon as she estimated that they represented no danger, her attention went elsewhere.

Amelia went straight for one of the cabinet which Remus knew was filled with pain relief potions.

The girl seemed a bit out of it. Her appearance was a lot less polished than usual. She had obviously made no effort to tame her hair and there was a wild light in her eyes which the werewolf had only witness one time since he had met her.

Dread filled him.

He observed her as she tugged and pulled at the doors, getting more worked up as her endeavors remained fruitless. Then, he addressed her cautiously. "What are you doing?"

Amelia huffed in frustration. "What I should have done in the first place." she let out in between two heaves.

The girl besides Remus piped up. "Are you trying to steal medication? That's really dangerous, you know. My Mom and Dad are doctors, and they say only a doctor know what a patient needs."

Remus froze. No wizard would call a healer a doctor.

Well, that settled it then. That kid was definitely a muggleborn. The werewolf tensed in anticipation of Amelia's reaction.

If the witch was surprised she did not let it on. She merely shrugged the information off. "Doctors, hm. Well, I am sure there's some truth in what you say kiddo, but these" she pointed to the cabinet. "are not medication. They're potions and I know my potions."

Amelia turned back to stare at the glass panel separating her from the bottle she clearly intended to rob. "All I need is a headache reducer. That's what she would have given to me anyway if she wasn't worried about other things." she mumbled.

Amelia made a face. "I would have made it myself but, for some unfathomable reasons, Slughorn has refused me access to his reserves." she spat, annoyed with the potion master's unusual recalcitrance.

"The glass is unbreakable, you know." Remus told her, unnerved by the way the girl had been glaring at it. "And you aren't going to be able to pry the doors open. She's got an awful lot of wards on them."

The look Amelia sent his way was withering. "Magic? Couldn't you have said something earlier?" the young witch flared as she drew her wand from the waist of her skirt.

Amelia waved her wand at the cabinet in some intricate movement and smiled when its doors flew open.

Remus' jaw slackened.

Amelia's hand shot forward and grabbed the brown bottle out of the shelf. Goal achieved, the angelic looking girl turned around and fixed her gaze on Remus, looking at him up and down slowly.

The action could have been sensual. Hell, maybe it was meant to. For Remus though, it felt a lot more like being seized up in preparation for a scuffle. The werewolf sensed he was being evaluated as a possible threat, an eventual danger.

Amelia's smirk became predatory. "Merlin, Sandy. You look ghastly. Try not to die on us." teased the witch.

The werewolf's heart throbbed painfully at the mention of the nickname. Amelia was definitely not in the right state of mind. Again.

Now that her attention was solely directed at him, Remus could feel how much of a menace Amelia Deauclair truly was.

He felt it crawling on his skin. It made the hair on the back on his neck stand erected. Her power was like a beast on the prowl and it made Moony growl in response.

Remus could feel no ill intention coming out of her.

The beast was not in attack mode. It merely sat there; considering him, making itself known.

The message was clear: the heir of the Deauclair dynasty was a force to reckon with.

She was to be dealt with prudence.

"I could tell you the same." he remarked.

It was true. As much as her aura was intimidating, Amelia's body looked fragile to say the least. The girl's skin was sickly pale and moist with sweat. Furthermore, Remus could tell, by her restlessness and the way her eyes kept shifting, that she was falling victim to a high fever.

Amelia gave a shaky laugh. "Point taken. We make quite the pair, don't we?"

The witch's gaze shifted to the side, her attention now on the girl sitting next to Remus. Instinctively, the werewolf shuffled closer to the eleven year old and rested his hand on his hip where his wand lay hidden by the folds of his robes.

Amelia must have seen his movement from the corner of her eye because she grinned and made a show of putting away her wand as well as the potion. "You, on the other hand, don't seem on the brink of death, kiddo. What brought you here?"

The child, obviously thrown by the terseness that oozed from Remus, blinked a few times before answering. "I'm here to give blood. Madam Pomfrey said there was a first year that was sick and needed regular transfusions. She asked and I accepted to donate some of mine. My brother has leukaemia so I know was it's like…" the girl faltered, eying the older witch fearfully.

This time, Remus did not lose this time with subtlety and hurried to grab his wand.

At the mention of blood donation, Amelia had gone rigid. The last colors she had had on her cheeks drained from her face. Her traits seemed set in stone and her eyes were fixed on the girl, unblinking.

She was terrifying in stillness.

"Transfusion, you say?" Her voice was barely over a whisper.

"Yes. Some people, they get really sick. They've got a problem with their blood and they need to be given the blood of others." stuttered the young girl.

"Wizard do not get sick like muggles do." Amelia's words were harsh, final.

Desperate to get some of the heat off her, Remus came to the small teen's rescue. "Maybe if they get a magical disease, one that affect their blood..." tried the werewolf.

A sneer distorted Amelia's face and her eyes held an animalistic fervor. "Nonsense. Blood is what makes the wizard. It carries his magic. It's a silent testament of the story of his ancestry and the trials his family faced. A wizard betrayed by his own blood is no wizard. He is better off dead." snarked the pureblood.

"That's stupid!" the brown haired girl screeched, cheeks flushed in anger. "You can't hold it against someone if their body is failing him. They didn't ask for any of it."

Remus felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. This was probably the first time she was confronted with the extremist beliefs of hardcore pureblood elitists. Having a sick brother and having his illness judged in this fashion most certainly hit pretty close to home.

Amelia reeled back and for a second, her face contorted in guilt. Immediately, she tried to smooth her features but not without some difficulty.

When she finally regain control however, her eyes were as hard as steel once again. "See, this is exactly why people of your kind have no place in our society. You thought magic would give you a free pass to our world. You were wrong. "

Amelia' tone had lost some of its fire by this point, but her words were still as biting. "You do not understand our customs. You despise them. All mudbloods do. You try to change hundred years old of traditions solely based on what you believe is right."

Remus could feel himself tremble like a leaf. There they were: the same words said over and over again. It was the same litany. It just kept coming back to Remus' ears like the lyrics of that one annoying overrated song that played all summer on the radio.

It was the same tone. It was the same glare. The same blinded hatred.

Merlin, that word horrified him. Mudblood.

What did it even mean? What did they expect? That muggles bled greenish, putrid goo?

It was full of nonsense and reeked of ignorance.

Remus knew for a fact that blood did not differentiate people. Even monsters bled red.

He was the living proof of that.

"Why? Because obeying blindly to hundred year old traditions without ever questioning them is better, maybe? Ever heard of evolution? Oh, wait. Probably not, am I right?" Remus exploded.

He could barely resist baring his teeth at her. It was all he could do not to snarl.

He could not afford to lose control now. Not with a kid sitting beside him and none of his friends to calm him down.

Especially not in front of her. Amelia Deauclair was not one to forget or to forgive.

The way things were, Remus was not the only one struggling and trying to avoid an outburst. By the looks of it, Amelia was close to losing her temper. Her skin had regained some colors and her neck was now covered with angry red blotches that did nothing for her complexion.

"Blood transfusions are an abomination! Don't you see it defeats the whole system?" rasped Amelia, glaring at Remus. She looked mad with aggravation. "What's the whole point of marrying among purebloods and having all this hierarchy if she "the witch pointed to the girl "simply comes around and start giving her filthy blood to everyone!"

There were clanging sounds when Remus' chair was sent crashing to the ground as he stood up in a rage. "Watch it!" he practically yelled.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the werewolf wondered how the hell the commotion hadn't attracted the attention of Madam Promfrey yet. She certainly had casted a hella strong silencing charm around Peter and her.

Amelia's fists were clenched on either side of her. "Or what? Are you going to defend her? Because she's going to need it!" There was desperation in Amelia's eyes as she said this. "What do you think will happen once they hear about this? Do you actually think they'll give her a medal?"

The mockery had the werewolf's blood boiling in his veins. The threat was pretty clear as well. If words of this came back to the Slytherins…

Remus shivered. Every inch of his body hurt in anticipation of a fight. Moony's howling was astonishing. "There someone's health in the balance. Whoever it is that needs her blood could be saved thanks to her."

Amelia's smirk was quick and wide, showing off her dentition. Remus nearly growled.

Werewolves only showed their teeth when they wanted to intimidate.

"Yes well, they're being bloody egoistical about it, isn't he? Bet she doesn't even know that child's name. Do you, kiddo?" the witch asked, turning to the small girl stuck to Remus' side.

Amelia's speech sounded so wrong. All this swearing, this familiarity, this open hostility was so far from the cold condescending attitude the boy had come to expect from her.

Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered animal. For some reason, Amelia felt like one. Whatever had set her off, she was close to her breaking point.

The werewolf extended an arm in front of the small teen and hid her partially from view. "Step back. You're taking this way too far."

Amelia's laugh was a displeasing sound. It was chilling and borderline hysterical. "Me? I'm doing her a favor. If she's going to endanger her life for someone she doesn't know, shouldn't she at least be warned of the consequences beforehand?"

Remus halted for a fraction of a second. He frowned and observed Amelia. Her face was a mask of indifference once again, but the beating of her heart, loud in the werewolf's ears, was erratic and betrayed her agitation.

Her lips was slightly trembling and the boy would have sworn her hands were shaking even though they were still curled into fists.

Was she actually concerned?

Well, this was a really twisted way of showing it.

"There's a difference between warning someone off and scaring a girl half to death."

"Like there's a difference between bravery and the kind of idiocy that leads you to death." The response had come quick, without a second thought. However, uttering that one sentence seem to take its toll on Amelia and she visibly deflated.

She stared at Remus with dead eyes. "They're gonna rip her apart Sandy."

Remus glanced at the girl that was the cause of all this commotion. The teen looked so frightened and confused that Remus had the urge to take her in his arms. He could not blame her. She probably did not even had a clue what the fuss was about. Remus doubted she had yet to be called a mudblood before now.

He'd rather have each of his limbs severed one at a time from his body than to admit it, but Amelia did have a point.

If purebloods were to know a muggleborn was donating blood, "corrupting" another wizard with her freakiness, there was no telling what they would do to her.

Amelia sighed and softened her tone. "Kid, let me give you an advice." The witch pressed her lips together and breathed through her nose a few times. "You might think this world is wonderful, but you haven't seen half of it yet. Believe me, it's cold and it's cruel. Here, it's everybody for themselves and if you wanna survive, you're going to forget about this and never talk about it again."

Remus' hands felt like ice. This was so wrong.

Apparently, he was not the only one to think so. "But…" said the first year, frowning.

Amelia smiled. It was empty and didn't reach her eyes. "It's easy, sweetheart. All you have to do is turn around and walk past these doors."

It was true. It was easy.

James, Sirius and Peter: they could have easily turned their back on him the second they learned the truth. But they hadn't.

If they had, Remus would still be a loner and he wasn't certain he would have made it to his sixteen birthday.

Sometimes, what's easy isn't what's right.

But who was he to ask an eleven year old girl to risk her life?

The boy tasted bile and the ground swayed beneath his feet.

"Sandy are you alright?

First it was the colors. The world became black and white and then his vision began to dim around the edges. As the circle of light diminished, Remus' knees failed him and his head came crashing down.

"Sandy?!"

Then, the world was no more.

* * *

><p>The first thing Remus became aware of when he came around was the weight pressed against his right arm. The second was that he was in the infirmary. The place reeked of potions and remedies.<p>

Maybe Sirius had decided to sleep beside him as Padfoot once again. He did that sometimes after the full moon. One of these days he was going to give Madam Pomfrey a stroke.

Git.

"Miss Darling, I told you to keep out of here. Mister Lupin needs his rest. You staring at him while he sleeps will not wake him up prematurely." Steps could be heard and Remus presumed the matron has walked away.

Ugh. Maybe not Padfoot then. No one could ever mistake him for a "miss" for sure. This was a girl going by the name of… Darling? Why did that name sounded familiar?

Wait... Since when did girls came to sit at his bedside?

"But what if he never wakes up!" quipped a high pitched voice.

Ah. The first year. The one that had volunteered to donate blood.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, memories from what had happened that afternoon came back to Remus at once. He almost groaned.

"No worries." came Peter's squeaky voice. "He wakes up every time."

"Oh. He does that a lot? Faint, I mean?" the girl inquired.

Remus could almost see Peter's uneasy expression even with his eyes closed. "Er, yeah. You could say that." the boy trailed off.

Gee. Thanks a lot for that Wormtail.

The werewolf groaned and stretched: time to make people know he was conscious before Pete let on something they would both regret.

The blurry face of Wormtail was all he could see when he opened his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision and smiled groggily at his friend.

Man, how much pain killers had Madam Pomfrey filled him up with again?

Peter grinned back and then turned his head towards the teen on the other side of the bed. "Juliet, would you mind getting Madam Pomfrey please?"

"On it!"

Remus watched as the girl sprang up and bounced away, her brown hair flying in every direction with every step she made.

"Juliet?" Remus looked at Peter questioningly.

Wormtail eyed him weirdly. "Yeah, it's her name. Haven't you asked?"

The mousy boy rolled his eyes at Remus' sheepish expression. "My attention was elsewhere, alright." grumbled the werewolf.

"Juliet is the one that warned us of what was happening. She came up to us in complete panic and told us you've had a stroke and died." Peter chuckled. "Never seen Madam Pomfrey ran so fast in my life."

"I bet." Remus frowned. "What about Amelia?"

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion. "When we got to you, she was crouched beside you and she seemed like she was trying to re-enervate you. She was practically in tears. It was all very weird, mate."

Wormtail's eyes were drilling holes in the side of his head, but Remus remained silent. He didn't know what to tell him. Honestly, he was as nonplussed as his friend.

Finally, Remus met his gaze. "Where is she now?"

It was obvious Peter was dying to question him further but the boy did not push it. Instead he shrugged. "Don't know. She took off as soon as Madam Pomfrey said you were going to be fine."

The boys remained silent for a while, both deep into their thoughts. Then, the matron made her grand entrance and the following minutes were a whirlwind of questions, pokes, prods and diagnostic spells.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey reluctantly agreed to let Remus go for the afternoon with the promise to come back at seven o'clock sharp, the boys left the Hospital Wing and bid Juliet goodbye.

Remus watched the young girl go and struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. With all this, he hadn't ask the girl whether or not she was still planning to go through her donation.

"You alright, Moony?" asked Peter worriedly.

Remus nodded feebly. "I'll tell you in the dorms."

They went on their way. Except for the few times when he made sure Remus was doing fine, Peter kept silent. The werewolf liked this in his friend.

Wormtail had a knack at knowing when and when not to speak up and always found a way to make people feel at ease with the silence. With Peter, Remus did not feel the urge to fill in the blanks. He was free to let his mind wander as he wanted.

Since the second period had already begun, the both of them had decided to go back to the Gryffindor tower. They would take advantage of the fact that it would be empty to sit in the best couches of the room and relax.

Remus was still a little high on the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him, but he knew the pain would come back full force sooner than later. Better make the best of the few hours of respite he got.

There were on the fourth floor when it happened.

A scream of pure agony tore through the silence, ripping it to threads. It was holler filled with pain, one that scorches one's throat like hellfire. It was the cry of a wounded animal, a creature fatally injured. And it turned Remus' blood to ice.

Without a look to each other, the boys broke into a run. As they raced with time, the wails became louder and more desperate.

Remus turned the corner and skidded to a halt, barely noticing when Peter crashed into his back.

In this instant, the werewolf's heart dropped to his feet. In a trance, all he could do was stare helplessly. They were four. Four Ravenclaw girls judging by the color of their ties. But they were barely human anymore.

There are some moments in your existence when gravity stops for a second. Moments when you feel yourself free falling even with your feet on the solid ground.

Moments when colors, movements and light are all but non-existent and yet you continue to see.

Moments when your heart stops beating, but you carry on living.

The girl in the centre of the chaos was the one screeching. Eyes and mouth wide open, she was gasping for air like a fish out of water, thrashing about in one of her friends' arms and tears running down her face.

Remus could clearly see she was dead inside, yet she was very much alive. A body with no soul.

"Mary! Mary, calm down. You need to calm down. You're gonna hurt yourself. You're gonna…" The blonde girl standing in front of the hysterical teen moaned as a sob wracked her body. "Please Mary, listen to me!"

The fourth girl, a tiny thing with short black hair, stood back as she stared at the scene with unblinking eyes, looking completely horrified.

Peter was the first, surprisingly, to spring into action. He advanced towards the girl in crisis and tried to get her attention, joining the blonde who stepped back upon his arrival.

After calling her name, snapping his fingers and waving his hands in the girl's face, Wormtail tentatively reached for her shoulder. The convulsions continued, if not intensified.

Peter turned a terrified face to Remus. "We gotta do something before she gets injured, Moony."

Peter's fear acted as a stimulant and Remus shook himself. Drawing his wand, he sighed. He had endured enough panic attacks to know what was left to do now.

Pointing his wand at the girl, he swallowed and took aim. "Stupefy."

Surprised by the sudden dead weight, the witch holding the girl fell backwards, taking her friend with her.

The silence that engulfed them then was deafening. They all stood there a minute in catatonic stupor, unsure what to do.

"We better get her to the infirmary before she wakes up." mumbled Remus.

"I'll help you." offered Peter after meeting the defeated gazes of the three Ravenclaws. Raising his wand he hit the unconscious teen with a levitation charm, and soon, the girl was floating in the air like some kind of grotesque puppet.

Peter casted an uncertain glance at Remus. The werewolf nodded, encouraging him to go forward. As Wormtail started to walk in direction of the Hospital Wing once again, the girls slowly followed him, minds still reeling.

The black haired girl was to last one to start moving. She took one step at a time, robotically. It was obvious she was in shock.

Hesitating, Remus gently grabbed her by the arm. "Daphne, right?" Getting no response, the werewolf went on. "Daphne, what happened to Mary?"

Unexpectedly, he seemed to gain her attention. Haunted eyes met his gaze. "The owl. The ministry owl, it came and... We were on our free period. We didn't expect... We never thought..."

Realising she was rambling, Remus cut her off. "Daphne, the letter. Mary got a letter right? What did it say?"

He did not have to ask of course. It was evident what had happened. This wasn't the first owl coming from the ministry that had arrived at Hogwarts.

Nonetheless, Remus held his breath. His heartbeats made his lips, the tips of his fingers and his ears throb.

"The Dark Mark, they found it over her house. They're dead. They're all dead."

* * *

><p><strong>Now, I've done it, didn't I. You lot probably all hate Amelia at this point. Understandable enough, I guess. However, as I said before very few of my characters are entirely jerks. Or saints for that matter. Keep that in mind. <strong>

**I always figured that purebloods would be against blood transfusion. It goes against their ideas. It's been seen before: some religions do ban blood donations after all.**

**What do you think of Remus. Seriously guys, knowing Remus I think he would have been more worried about the pain he could inflict to others than his own. No wonder he was overjoyed when Snape accepted to brew ****wolfsbane potion for him in Harry's third year. Never mind his arch enemy could have easily poisoned him, Lupin took hi chance. He'd rather die than accidentally hurt anyone. **

**Being a werewolf is worst than PMSing people. Remember that. **


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